


Winter's Flame

by cat_in_converse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Action, Avengers - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hydra, Reader-Insert, Romance, SHIELD, Smut, There will be some gay romance in it sue me, Time Travel, X men - Freeform, X-men - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:09:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_in_converse/pseuds/cat_in_converse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader; a hot headed mutant, the newest Avenger, and someone who insists on making jokes at the worst possible time.<br/>Steve Rogers; A man who takes his missions seriously and only ever seems to open up to his best friend, Bucky Barnes.<br/>During an incredible twist of events, these two Avengers-- people who could not be further apart in character and attitude-- are sent back in time with nothing but their wit and rocky relationship to keep them afloat. Enlisting the help of an old friend, a young Charles Xavier, the pair attempt to find their way back to modern times.<br/>In Steve and the reader's absence, Bucky begins to feel the Winter Soldier take hold of his mind once more, and what's worse; there is no one there to stop it.<br/>With the Winter Soldier and Hydra threatening to ruin the present, the reader and Steve must find a way not to change the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on my Tumblr (imagine-that-marvel) and did very well, so I figured I would share it on this site as well ^_^! If you enjoyed this, feel free to check my tumblr-- I post many more one shots/fics on there constantly. Basically, it's where I dump my marvel-induced emotions in the form of fanfiction.  
> *This Winter's Flame has been edited from the original one posted on Tumblr.  
> *I do not own any rights to Marvel

You were fire. You were strong. You were fierce.

And, you were majorly _pissed_.

“ _Steve_!” You shouted for about the fifth time, again to no avail. Understandably, Steve was just a bit preoccupied with the half dozen soldier that surrounded him, but _still_. “Steve give me a goddamn hand here!”

His blue eyes flicked over to you for a sliver of a moment as he swung his fist around, bashing it into the side of a man’s jaw. “What was that?”

You gritted your teeth together and jumped up, spinning in the air and kicking a soldier in the chest. “I said _give me a hand_!”

“How ‘bout a shield?” 

His red, white, and blue circular shield spun through he air, hitting one man and bouncing between five others, effectively knocking them to the ground.

Slightly out of breath, you bent down and clamped your hands onto your knees as you forcibly pushed air in and out of your lungs, practically wheezing. You numbly nodded to Steve as he jogged up next to you, clipping his iconic shield back onto his arm. “Yeah…that works too.”

“You okay to keep going, rookie?”

You snorted at his use of the name ’rookie’, and shook your head and straightening your back, smiling at him. “You kidding? I’m just getting fired up!”

He groaned a little as he looked back and forth, watching to see if anymore Hydra men have spotted the two of you. “You know I hate it when you make fire puns.”

You wiped the dirt and soot from your face with the sweaty palms of your hands, then with a flick of your wrist, you created a crackling ball of fire at your side.

“I do it just to annoy you, Rogers, you know that, right?” You offered up a quick smirk at him, just to have it fall when you spotted a man walking towards the two of you. 

He wasn’t just any old Hydra soldier, that much was obvious. The way he carried himself, the way he was dressed, the way his lips twisted into a sickening smile as he approached you gave a knot in your stomach. Instinctively, you raised your fists at your sides, flicking them slightly and creating two large flames. Steve turned and saw the man, quickly raising his shield in front of the two of you.

“Y/N, Steve!” You heard someone call from the side. Both of your gazes flicked over to Bucky, only to see him frantically waving his metal and flesh arms at you. “Get outta there! That man just made five of our best SHIELD agents _disappear_ , he’s a mutant!”

You snarled at the man, baring your teeth and making a point to amp up your flames for him to see. In a fight like this, especially with an enemy that was known to play dirty, showing a bit on animalistic dominance before engaging in combat was never a bad thing. “Mutant versus mutant then, huh? Not so bad.”

You were born a mutant, ever since the small age of five you had been able to create flames with just a flick of your wrist. The older you got the more you worked to control it and make use to of it, which is why SHIELD recruited you to be the newest member of the Avengers. You weren’t scared of this man just because he was a mutant, he was _just like you_.

“There isn’t going to be much of a _'versus'_ in this fight, I am afraid.” The man chuckled. As he got closer, you could see the beginnings of a Hydra emblem tattooed onto his neck. Such a permanent, public proclamation of where his loyalties rest-- it made a shiver run down your spine like acid. "You see, I’ve already won.“

Before you could think to come up with some sort of witty comeback, the man raised his hands to the pair of you. His finger tips began to glow a white-yellow hue, one that slowly began to leave his skin and swirl around you and Steve.

 _No_.

You weren’t normally one to get scared, but in this very moment, you couldn’t breathe. The swirls of light flowed around you, closing you in a cage of energy.

Without thinking, you let the flames on your skin die out as you wrapped your hands around Steve’s arms. The light began to restrict the space, slowly moving into the two of you. Steve pulled you right in front of him, his chest pressed to your back, and stationed his shield directly in front of the two of you. You knew he was trying to save as much space as possible, but you began to think that his efforts were completely wasted.

"No, _no_!” You heard Bucky shout, though his voice was fading. It was like it was a shout from some sort of dream, the voices of reality and your mind began to meld into one. “This is what he did before, this is how he made them disappear! Get _outta_ there!”

You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. The light energy that closed in around the two of you was so intense that you felt that if you tried to push your way through it, you would simply unravel. 

Steve hunched over you, his faced pressed into the crown of your head and his eyes screwed shut. The space was fleeting, as was your hope.

“Steve–” By the time his name had left your lips, you were gone. The light was washed over with a black, numb feeling.

Your eyelids fell closed and your mind went blank, the last thing to reach your ears being Bucky’s distant scream.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You awoke to the smell of fresh grass and clean, smoke-free air. No longer did the hot, musty ash and dust thicken the air, it was so… _pure_.

Your eyes flicked open to be met with a blazing sun high in the sky, much to bright for your sleepy self. Groaning, you covered your face with your hands and tried to sit up, only to find that you were being held to the ground by something. Or, rather, _someone_.

Slowly, so that your eyes had enough time to adjust, you peeled your hands away and glanced down at the man next to you. Steve, to put it mildly, looked downright angelic.

His blond hair, as covered in dirt and black ash as it was, seemed to be glimmering under the light rays from the sun overhead, and his cream-colored skin looked so soft.

Normally, he was so strict and restrained, but now…his face was loose and relaxed, his eyelids resting peacefully down, and his mouth even parted slightly as he breathed in and out sleepily. You saw the blades of grass move just a little by his mouth as he let out his breaths.

He was laying on his side on the grass, his right arm was draped over your torso, which had been the restraint that held you to the ground before. His legs tangled with your and his face was only mere inches from where yours had been.

For some reason, you didn’t want to wake him. It wasn’t often that you were able to see this side of Steve. Even when he was laughing or just being friendly, he never really let go. But, in sleep, you saw that there was nothing for him to hide. He was completely at peace with himself, so comfortable and so content.

Still, the reality of the situation hit you faster than you cared to admit. As you looked around, you saw nothing but grassy hills, a grey road a few feet from where you were laying, some trees, and what looked to be a gas station a ways down the road.

“Steve.” You murmured, gently shaking his shoulder. “Steve, wake up.”

He grumbled and pulled his arm from you, taking his now-free hand and rubbing his eyes with it. While he was still getting woken up, you took the opportunity to slide over to the side and remove your legs from his. You decided that you weren’t going to tell him about the position you woke up in, I’d just make things awkward.

“Where…” His bright blue eyes adjusted to the scenery around him. “Where are we?”

You stood on your feet, wobbling slightly. “I have no idea.”

The events from before began to leek into your memory in bits, like shells washing up on the shore from the waves. The battle with Hydra, the mutant, the light.

“There is a gas station down the road, I can see it.” You said, pointing in the distance as Steve stood up next to you. “We can go ask.”

His blue eyes followed your finger, squinting to see the station you were talking about. He looked around at the grassy bed that the two of you had woken up on to see if there was anything you had left on the ground, but unsurprisingly there wasn’t. The only thing the two of you had was the uniforms you had worn into battle and each other.

Wordlessly, you made your way down the side of the road with the blond Avenger, never once sneaking a glance in his direction. He was deep in thought, you could tell by the way his brows were furrowed and how his lips were pulled into a small frown. As many jokes and light-hearted comments you may throw out on a regular basis, you knew better than to say anything right now. Steve seemed lost, seemed almost downright scared once you looked past his guarded expression. 

He was born to be a leader, born to shed light on dark, uncertain situations. And, honestly, nothing frightened you more than realizing he was just as in the dark as you were.

Both of you were sore and moved slower than normal, much like the morning after a large battle, so it took you a short while to get to the small gas station. It was a quaint, cute little building with only two pumps and a small little shop behind them. It was funny, you had never seen a gas station with such a homey, vintage vibe to it. Refreshing, really.

You looked at the gas prices, impressed at how low they were. Less than a dollar!

Steve pushed open the glass door with the ding! of a bell, flattening himself to the surface of the door for you to slip in ahead of him. Well, at least chivalry isn’t dead. Not as long as Steve Rogers is around.

You walked in and made your way to the counter, and the old man standing behind it smiled at you, which quickly faded. You could only _imagine_ what you two must look like; dirt covering every surface of your bodies, your strange combat uniforms, your tired eyes and practically drained energy levels…

Grinning at the man sheepishly, you leaned over on the counter and propped your elbows on the surface. “Hello, sir.”

“H-hello.” He responded, not quite yet deciding what to make of you two. “What can I do for you?”

“We just want to know where we are? Our car broke down just down the road, and I’m afraid we left our maps at home.” Steve said, and you couldn’t help yourself—you threw a glance at him over your shoulder, cocking your eyebrow up. His lies came so smoothly, especially for someone who’s entire image is built on freedom, justice, and truth.

Of course, you didn’t expect him to give this poor old man the rundown of how you really ended up here, so Steve figured he would throw him a bone and give him a more mundane story. That, and seeing as you had no idea of what was going on, a cover story seemed the safest bet. You both were, as far you could tell, alone and rather defenseless. If anyone was looking for Captain America, well, this would be the perfect time to attack.

You also noticed how Steve held you right in front of him so that his star on his chest was covered, presumably to further hide suspicion.

“You need some help with your car, huh?” The man said, offering up a small smile and seemingly excepting the story. “I can see if I can fix her up for ya folks, if you’d like.”

Again, the lies fell from his lips fluently. “Oh, there won’t be any need for that, sir. My wife and I can fix it up ourselves, we just were wondering if you perhaps had a map we could use so that we could get our selves back on the road?”

Your cheeks flushed the color of fire at Steve’s telling the man you were his wife, but neither of them noticed.

“Oh, sure, sure.” The man snatched some sort of paper map from behind the counter and took a pen, circling a small town name on it and pointing to it. “This is where ya are right now.”

Shit. _Shit_. Something was wrong.

Shaken, you barley found it in you to smile at the man as Steve reached over your shoulder and took the map from him. Giving the old man some final parting words, Steve ushered you out of the door.

“Shit, shit, _shit_ Steve!” You shouted once you two were outside. “That name on the map–that was where the battle was! That was where we were fighting!”

“I know, I know.” He muttered in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Nothing makes sense. We were in a city, with buildings. Now… it’s just _grass_.”

Then something caught your eye. An advertisement, no more than a few inches wide and in length, pinned to a bulletin in front of the store. Your stomach dropped to your feet.

Wordlessly, without so much as telling Steve, you left him talking to himself and walked over to it. Taking it in your shaking hands, you ripped it from the board and held it closer to your face.

“Steve.” You whispered, then moments later repeated his name in a more frantic tone. “Steve.”

You spun around to face him and shoved the paper to his chest, jabbing your finger to the text printed on it. 

He took it from your hands with furrowed brows. “What? It’s an ad for a movie, Y/N. We have more important things to–oh. _Oh_.”

Yes, it was an ad for a movie, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the release date: October 31st, _1963_.

You were in the right place, just not the right _time_. The hills, as green and vast as they were, somehow get turned into streets and buildings. God, you were in the 1960s. You were going to vomit, or cry. Or very well both.

Shakily, you put your hands around your neck and crouched down to the ground, forcibly trying to push air in and out of your lungs. Your heart was slamming against your ribcage, you thought your lungs were going to burst…

Steve was pulling you into his arms, carefully (yet awkwardly) running his fingers over your hair and trying to calm you down. Still, you could feel him shaking.

“We’ll find our way back, okay? It will be okay.” He reassured her, but his words were hollow. Meaningless. He was telling you things that he wasn’t even sure he believed himself.

After a few moments of sniffling, you pulled yourself together. You were an Avenger, for goodness sake. 

Steve looked around for a moment, then spotted a motorcycle that someone had parked at the pump for gas. He saw through the window that the man had gone in to pay for his gas and pick up a candy bar of some sort at the counter, so Steve quickly jumped on the bike and gestured for you to jump behind him.

God, lying and stealing? Who would have thought that Steve Rogers even had that in him?

Hesitantly, you slipped in behind him and wrapped your arms around his torso. Before anyone saw them, Steve kicked up the stand to the bike and peeled out into the road.

“Where are we going?” You yelled over the sound of wind passing you by and the engine. 

“New York City.” He replied, speeding down the open road. “SHIELD will be stationed down there still, we can get some help from them.”

“No, no! Steve, _stop_!”

Confused, Steve complied and pulled over to the side of the empty road. No longer could you see the gas station, now it was just you, Steve, and the grassy hills.

“We can’t go to SHIELD, Steve.” You told him, stern and completely serious (which was something you rarely, if ever, used on Steve). "Think about it— As of right now, in the 60’s, SHIELD hasn’t found you yet. In this world, there is now _two Steve Rogers_ ; the one in the ice, and you. If you go to SHIELD now, you risk them finding the other you before you had originally been found. You have to let them find you on their own, or else you risk throwing off the entire timeline.“

Steve blinked at you, clearly shocked at your protest. But, you saw a slow look of understanding cross his handsome face. "Then where can we go? Remember, neither of us were around in the 60’s. We’ve got no where to go.”

Thoughtfully, you slowly shook your head. “Not…not necessarily.”

Steve cocked up a blond eyebrow at you.

“Maybe not in New York City, but in New York.” You mused. “More specifically Westchester County, New York.”

“What’s there?”

“Someone who helped me a while ago.” You told him. “His name is Charles Xavier, he should be a young man now.”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this entire fic FINISHED so I will be posting the chapters somewhat frequently-- or as frequently as class work and life will allow. Enjoy!  
> *I do not own any rights to Marvel

~*~ Present day ~*~

~Bucky~ 

A single flower, it was all that remained after Steve and Y/N disappeared. Bucky couldn’t move for a long moment, his eyes glued to the small plant that resided where his friends had been moments before.

 _Years_ spent separated from Steve, all the time that he had wasted being alone only to be reunited with the person that meant the most to him— all of it, burned to ashes.

And Y/N, _god_ , she didn’t deserve that. As she clung to Steve and they began to lose their grip on this world, he saw the absolute _fear_ in her eyes. Bucky had gotten quite used to her company, she was kind and funny to be around. Apart from Steve, she was almost the only person he smiled for.

Now, they were both gone.

The flower that took their place, as bright and vibrant purple as it was, made him see red. 

The mutant-- which had been smiling smugly at himself-- barley had enough time to even see Bucky approach him before the soldier had pressed a gun to his head. Bucky hadn’t felt so cold, so _desperate_ since he had left Hydra.

With the cool barrel of the weapon shoved into the hair of the mutant, Bucky knew that he wasn’t going to try anything. The mutant’s power-- as strong as it was-- wasn’t the fastest one out there. Bucky could easily shoot him before he could pull anything.

“Make one sudden move and I pull this trigger, I swear to god.” Bucky’s voice was stone, it was strong yet so hollow. His rage had begun to boil into the point of numbness.

It was dangerous for him to feel this way, he was beginning to blur the line between Bucky and the Winter Soldier.

Around them Hydra soldiers had fallen by the dozens, and those who remained were being apprehended to be taken in for questioning. This had been one solidary pocket of Hydra followers, a single part of a much bigger picture. It should have been an easy mission, something that they had done so many times before. So why was it that it had gone so horribly wrong?

Bucky prompted the mutant to move forward by nudging him in the back of the head with the gun, moving them both to a transport that had been waiting for Bucky.

Actually, it was waiting for Bucky _and Steve_. The others didn’t know what had happened yet.

As he walked by it, Bucky-- with his gun still pressed to the man’s head-- scooped up the flower and tucked it into the breast pocket of his uniform. The peddles glided over the skin of his fingers softly as he slipped it into the pocket, providing him with a small degree of calming comfort. Steve and Y/N were _somewhere_ , they _had_ to be.

Bucky shoved the mutant into the back of the transport and sat directly across from him, slamming the door, locking it, and pointing the weapon directly between the man’s eyebrows. 

“Get us outta here.” Bucky told the driver, his eyes never leaving the mutant’s. “To Avenger’s tower, now.”

“Mr. Barnes,” The driver questions. “What about Rogers?”

His breath hitched at his friend’s name, his eyes grew dark. “We’ll get them later, I’ll make sure of it. Now drive!”

If they were somewhere, he would find them. And if they were dead, well, he would march right up to Death itself and fight for ‘em. 

He _needed_ them.

~*~ 1962 ~*~

~Reader~

Steve kicked out his leg to steady the bike, pausing at the base of the long and winding driveway which led up to Xavier’s mansion. With your arms still wrapped around Steve’s torso, you leaned over to the side to look past his larger frame and see the house in the distance.

You had forgotten just how _beautiful_ it was.

“This is the place you were talking about?” Steve asked, his crystal blue eyes flicking around and taking in the property.

You nodded, your lips twisting up into a small smile. Memories of times spent here, times that technically hadn’t _even happened yet_ , flashed through your head.

Xavier had taken you once you found yourself with no where to go. He gave you a place to stay, food and a family, and most importantly; he taught you how to control your powers.

Xavier, though he was older and in a wheelchair at the time, was able to show you how to focus your fire energy instead of letting it run chaotically. He was your mentor, and you knew that if there was anyone who could help you two, it was _him_.

“Yes.” You breathed, then pulled yourself closer to Steve and straightened your position. “Are we going to sit here all day, or are we going to get going?”

Steve grunted at you and rolled his eyes, then kicked his foot off of the ground and began to make his way up the gravel driveway.

You couldn’t lie to yourself—you were _excited_.

The sky was still bright and blue above you-- so very _alive_ \-- which only fueled you bubbling emotions. You hadn’t step foot on these grounds in years, since you had joined SHIELD and left Xavier’s school. You don’t regret your choice of leaving, but it still felt like you were coming home after being gone for a very long time.

Steve parked his–-you mean, the _stolen bike _-– to the side of the front door, shutting down the rumbling engine.__

__Steve took his shield from where he had strapped it to the side of the bike, clipping it to his back and looking around the front of the mansion carefully for any threats._ _

__You hadn’t known Steve for all that long, and you didn’t really talk all that much outside of work, so you were still getting used to his mission-mindset that he seemed to have 24/7. Even his friend-- Bucky-- was a lot more relaxed than him now that he was past the _Winter Soldier issue_._ _

__The amount of time you and Steve had spent together on the bike ride (which had lasted a few hours) was filled with nothing more than the sounds of wind and a muffled engine. He had barley said anything to you, other than to ask you if you needed a bathroom break or anything. It was strange, and slightly irritating, that Steve hadn’t opened up to you at all during this life-changing trip to the past._ _

__Sighing and casting away all those pesky little thoughts of negative emotions, you waltzed up to the front door and knocked firmly on the wood._ _

__Steve stood behind you, his hand placed gently on your hip. You knew that it wasn’t a kind or comforting gesture, but rather a protective precaution so that he could pull you away if there was any trouble. Still, it made you blush._ _

__After a moment of silence, the door creaked open to reveal a young man. His brown hair was combed back neatly, his sweater and shirt was folded and pressed neatly, and he smelled of something slightly bitter but with a hint of sweet–-like tea with sugar._ _

__Initially, you didn’t see it, but as he stood in front of you and watched you with questioning eyes you made the connection. His face, though many, _many_ years younger, resembled exactly the face of your old mentor._ _

__“God.” You whispered, unable to say his real name. In an odd, slightly icky way, you couldn’t help but think that he was damn attractive._ _

__“No, not God.” Charles mused in his accented voice, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning onto the doorway with a small grin. “The name is Charles Xavier.”_ _

__He reached out his hand to you-- an introduction. It was mildly upsetting to think that all those hours of training with him, the heart to heart discussions you had shared with his older self about making you one with your powers, were completely irrelevant here. _Everything_ , just wiped clean._ _

__Still, you reached out and shook his hand. "Y/N.“_ _

__He smiled kindly at you, showing his white teeth._ _

__"What brings such a lovely lady to my doorstep?” His eyes flicked up to Steve behind you, almost as if he had just noticed him that moment. “And her friend, as well.”_ _

__Steve said nothing, he just clenched his jaw and pressed his hand tighter to your hip._ _

__“I’m sorry, I know that this is very sudden, but I'm afraid that we are in desperate need of your help.” You said._ _

__His flirtatious smile faded from his lips, clearly catching how seriousness of your tone. He straightened his frame and pushed himself off from the side of the door, moving aside to make room for the two of you. “Yes, I see. Please, come in.”_ _

__You followed the young Charles through the halls and to a small living space with a couch, some armchairs, and a cold fireplace. You remember this room, you had spent some good time sitting on the floor in the corner and cramming for the tests that Charles gave his classes on genetics every week._ _

__Sitting uncomfortably on the couch with Steve next to you, Charles pulled an armchair so that he was right across from the two of you. He looked much more focused than when you had arrived, like something in him had shifted-- you saw the older Charles in him much clearer now._ _

__“Tell me what is wrong.”_ _

__So much to tell, so much time wasted telling him. You shook your head, rubbing your hand to your forehead and sighing._ _

__Finally, you looked up at him and knowingly said, “Just read my mind, Charles.”_ _

__His eyes widened, and for a brief moment you seemed to have caught him by surprise. Clearly seeing that you knew more than any average person should about him-- about his mutation-- he nodded._ _

__“Alright, then. As you wish.” He breathed, dragging his fingertips to his temple and concentrating._ _

__Steve tensed next to you, “Now wait just a minute, you can’t just go into her—”_ _

__But Charles was already gone. You felt his presence in your mind, digging through your thoughts and your memories. He spent time sifting through old events, seeing what had happened to you two and how you ended up where you were. He saw that you were once his student, he could see himself teaching you and helping you control your chaotic powers. He didn't dive into the specifics-- and thankfully, he didn't take notice to the fact that he was in a wheelchair in those visions._ _

__Stuttering for air, he jumped out of your head and nearly fell to the ground from his seat. His hand flew to his chest as he rehashed what he had witnessed; not only your life, but _his_ own future._ _

__“Charles!”_ _

__Both you and Steve snapped your heads over to see a young women and man running towards your fallen professor, sprinting to his side and trying to see what was wrong._ _

__“Raven, Hank…I’m alright.” You heard him say quietly. “I just…I’m fine.”_ _

___Hank_. Your eyes widened at the name, but you said nothing. That is the Beast. He was so... _young_._ _

__Still, despite Charles’s words, the girl named Raven jumped up and narrowed her eyes at you. You swore you saw them go yellow._ _

__“What did you _do_ to him?” She hissed, then booked it in your direction. _ _

__Steve was about to jump in front of you, but you already had it covered. You flicked your wrist, sending a ball of flames crackling around your knuckles. You weren't planning on _using_ the flames, they were more for show-- correction; a _warning_._ _

__Raven abruptly stopped, eyeing your hands with a gaping mouth._ _

__“Raven.” Charles said with much annoyance, standing up on his own two feet once more. “Both you and Hank need to leave, I am handling very important things right now.”_ _

__They both looked about ready to protest, but Charles shot them a pointed look which effectively had them spinning on their heels and going in the other direction. You had seen that look _a lot_ when you attended his school._ _

__“I’m sorry about, you know, my _reaction_ to going into your mind…” Charles trailed off, his hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I-I just wasn’t expecting that.”_ _

__You nodded slowly. “Trust me, I know.”_ _

__Sighing, the young man pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut. “I am going to have to look into it, perhaps there is something in my books which can help you with your time travel predicament. For now, however, you are welcome to stay here.”_ _

__“Just how much of Y/N’s mind did you pick through?” Steve questioned, practically towering over Charles._ _

__“Enough to know that you are Steve Rogers, part of a future group of heroes names the Avengers.” Charles didn’t look intimidated, but rather, he looked to be in slight awe. “You went into artic waters twenty years ago, everyone thought that Captain America had died. Your death made worldwide headlines.”_ _

__Steve teetered back a step, his eyes growing slightly in size. Steve generally didn’t like to talk about the past, and it seemed to just occur to him how much closer he is to it than he was before. He didn’t look upset, at least not yet, but rather he looked to be in pure shock._ _

__“W-worldwide headlines?” Steve murmured, more to himself than to anyone else._ _

__“Yes, and the world mourned.”_ _

__~*~_ _

__Steve set his shield next to the bed, running his fingers through his blond hair and plopping down on the end of the mattress._ _

__You sighed and laid down on the bed as well, resting your legs over his lap. Normally he would have shoved them off, but he was just too deep in thought to give a care._ _

__Charles had informed you that both you and Steve would have to share a room for your stay, which neither of you really had any energy left in you to think twice about._ _

__Apparently, you had arrived to Charles in a rather bad and stressful time. Charles, along with his friend Erik, had been working to train a group of mutants to be strong enough to fight against a man named Sebastian Shaw. You remember the older Charles telling you about this; how his battle with Shaw had left him unable to walk, prompted Erik to leave his side, and how they had been directly involved with the Cuban Missile Crisis. Charles told all of his struggling students this to show that that they were not the only ones to go through hard times, and that there is almost light at the end of every dark tunnel._ _

__Luckily, the young Charles hadn’t looked through everything in your memories, so he was unaware that you new the outcome of the fateful day that they were preparing for. Still, you made a point to tell Charles that you two strictly could not aid them in any way in this issue. Adding two Avengers to the Cuban Missile Crisis could drastically change history, and it was just something you and Steve couldn’t risk._ _

__All of the mutants he was training were taking up the spare bedrooms, leaving only one for the two of you to share. Many of the rooms that would later become dorms for his students were now extra study rooms, equipment rooms, or even just storage._ _

__The longer you staid there, the more you realized that it was very much different than the place that you had known before._ _

__“You okay?”_ _

__You stirred and rubbed your eyes sleepily, folding your arms under your head and snuggling to the bed. “ _Hmmm_? Oh, yeah I’m fine.”_ _

__“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Steve commented._ _

__“I’m _tired_ , Steve.” You groaned. “We fought a battle, then got transported in time, then drove halfway across the country. So, _yeah_ , I’m a little tired.”_ _

__Steve nodded slowly, remembering just how much had occurred in such little time. It felt like decades since you two had been tossed back into the 60s._ _

__“Then again, you probably aren’t even yawning yet, right?” You asked sluggishly, fighting the sleep that threatened to pull you under. “Being a 'super-soldier’ and all, you probably could stay up for days on end.”_ _

__Steve chuckled, then absentmindedly ran his pale fingers up and down the lower part of your legs that were resting on his lap. It was strange; you two were acting like actual _friends_. Not that Steve was ever _unfriendly_ to you, but he never really made an effort to be anything more than someone that you worked with._ _

__“I’m actually pretty drained too.” He mumbled. “We should probably get some shut eye, huh?”_ _

__You left Steve to untuck the covers of the bed while you went into the bathroom and changed into the pajamas that Raven had loaned you, which was just a loose-fitting pair of sweat pants and a black shirt. Nothing fancy, but god, it felt so much better than wearing that tight and dirty suit you had worn into battle._ _

__By the time you walked back into the bedroom, the sheets were neatly untucked and Steve was standing by the door with a pile of clothes in his hands, ready to switch into the bathroom and change._ _

__Not waiting for him to come back and not bothering to turn off the lights, you slid into the bed and wrapped the sheets over you. It felt so, so, _so_ good to lie down after everything. _ _

__You felt like you were in Heaven._ _

__But, then Steve came in with a white, tight-fitting shirt and sweatpants on. You shut your eyes and tried to fight off a blush as you heard him flick off the lights and make his way to where you were. A sudden dip in the bed indicated that he was in it with you, and almost instantly you felt his body heat come off of him in waves._ _

___Now_ you were in heaven._ _

__“Is…is this okay?” You heard Steve whisper through the dark. “Do you want me to move to the floor or something?”_ _

__“Just stay on your side, Steve.” You teased, only to be cut off with a rather large yawn. “And don’t hog all the sheets.”_ _

__He let out a light, airy chuckle as he settled in to his pillow._ _

__Despite everything that was going on, this felt like the most right thing in the world. It was almost like you could forget that you were decades away from home, like Steve’s presence was enough to make you feel even just a little more comfortable._ _

__You were scared, for sure, but the thing that got to you the most was the fact that you weren’t sure whether you were going to see your friends again._ _

__You fall asleep thinking about one of your closest friends that you left in the future: Bucky._ _

__~*~ Present ~*~_ _

__~Bucky~_ _

__Bucky paced back and forth furiously, his fists tied behind his back and his shoulders lumped forward. He furrowed his brows together as he glanced up and checked the clock for the twentieth time in the past ten minutes._ _

__“Buck, he’ll be out when he’s done—” Sam began, but stopped when he saw that Bucky was glaring at him._ _

__“He’s been in there for hours. When is Bruce going to come out with some answers?”_ _

__Thor came over to him, firmly clamping his large hand on Bucky’s much smaller shoulder. “Patience, James. It will be just fine.”_ _

__When Bucky had gotten back to Avenger’s Tower with the mutant, he immediately gave the others the rundown on what he had seen. Every little thing, from the vanishing of Steve and Y/N to the small little flower that was left behind._ _

__Needless to say, the entire team interrogated the mutant for all that he was worth. After hours and hours of trying to get information on what could have happened to their teammates, it became painfully clear; The mutant had no idea where he sent them. He didn’t know anything about what his powers really did, all he knew was that he made people disappear. And, for what Hydra used him for, that was all he ever needed to know._ _

__Natasha held them man at gunpoint well everyone else anxiously awaited what Bruce was able to find out, just in case he could be of any more use to them._ _

__Bruce had mentioned that he had an idea, then he took the flower right out of Bucky’s hands and locked himself away in his lab to do know who-knows-what. All Bucky cared about right now was finding his lost friend, and he needed to know _how_._ _

__The elevator let out a little _ding_ and opened for Bruce to walk out, a file in one hand and the single flower in the other._ _

__“Well, I have a theory.” Bruce said confidently, spreading the file out for everyone to see on a table._ _

__“See this?” Bruce asked, pinching the stem of the purple flower up so that it was held up in front of him. “Flowers like this used to grow around the area in which we were fighting, but in the past few decades the population decreased drastically due to the expansion of the industrial buildings in the town.”_ _

__“So?” Bucky grumbled, clearly not liking how long it was taking Banner to explain._ _

__“ _So_ ,” Bruce said pointedly at Bucky. “I did a little research. I took the energy frequencies from the exact moment that Steve and Y/N had vanished, and compared it to others. I found one single match._ _

__"Exactly where they disappeared there used to be large field, full of these flowers. The fields were torn up in the late 1970s to make way for the buildings. The frequency I found a match for was in 1962.”_ _

__For a moment the room fell silent, but Bucky somehow was able to find his voice first. “So..so what you’re telling me is that you noticed that that _one specific type of flower_ hadn’t grown in the area I found it in a few decades, so on that hunch you went and…and what again?”_ _

__“Compared energy frequencies.” Bruce answered._ _

__“Okay— _compared energy frequencies_ and found a match in the 1960s? And you got that all from a _flower_?”_ _

__Bucky wasn’t sure why he was yelling. He wasn’t really mad-- not at Bruce-- but rather frustrated. His friends seemed to be a lot farther away than he had initially thought._ _

__“Yes…?” Bruce answered hesitantly._ _

__“God.” Bucky breathed. His heart was beating chaotically against his poor chest, he thought that he was going to throw up. “Steve and Y/N…were sent _back in time_?”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.... keep in mind that I wrote this months and months ago, my writing is not like this anymore (or at least I like to think it isn't). Basically, what I am saying is that if you see any typos, awkward sentence structure, etc., please just ignore it. ^_^ I hope you liked it!


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to post, I had to find time to edit it ^_^. Enjoy!  
> *I do not own any rights to Marvel

~*~ 1962 ~*~  
~Reader~

You opened your eyes to a room full of light. Though the curtains were drawn closed, slivers of early morning sunlight still managed to leak through into the small guest room. It was calming.

You felt so weightless, so free and not under the restraint of the darkness.

Yawning, you reached up and rubbed your eyes sleepily. It was strange, you were so used to Nat waltzing into your room at the crack of dawn to get some early training in, or having Tony wake you up with some sort of obscene prank that would almost always lead to you torching his ass. Little things you had grown used too, things you expected upon waking up.

Not today, though. Even though you missed being at home in the tower and with everyone else, even though you were still very much lost and scared-- you had to admit that it was nice to wake up to such mundane circumstances.

Your gaze found its way over to the sleeping body next to you; that of Steve Rogers. His arm was folded under his head comfortably and his mouth was parted slightly, a dull snore emitting from it. His ones hand, the one that wasn’t hidden under the side of his head, was curled up against his chest as he slept. 

You sat there and watched him for just a moment, and you began to string together a new profile for Steve. In some cases-- _most_ cases-- he is always stretched too thin, a man in a time that wasn’t his own and in a place he didn’t belong. You saw it every day, both he and Bucky struggled to keep up with the world. But here, in sleep, he was simply _there_. There was nothing for him to understand, nothing making him uncomfortable or tense.

You wondered what he dreamt about.

Sighing, you began to slide out of the covers and off the edge of the bed, accidently knocking into Steve’s bent knee under the sheets. He murmured something inaudible and turned over, pressing his face against his pillow.

You quickly left the room to change into a pair of clothes that Raven-- yet again-- had loaned to you. Completely out of your style by about 50 or so years, but still, you just were thankful for the fact that you didn’t have to change back into your dirty uniform again.

You walked back into the bedroom to see Steve slowly reaching out to where you had been laying, patting his pale hand into the concave area of the pillow.

“Y/N?” You heard him mutter, making you chuckle.

“Right here.” You responded, sitting on the edge of the bed by his body and turning to face him. 

You caught a sliver of his bright blue eyes as he turned his face in the pillow, just barley peaking at you over the fluffy white fabric. His eyes were hooded and glassy from sleep.

“What time is it?” He mumbled quietly.

“Afternoon, not sure exactly what time.” You responded as you stood from the bed and opened the curtains fully, which earned you an annoyed hiss from Steve.

 _Some super soldier_ , You snickered to yourself, watching him as he pulled the comforter over his head to hide from the wave of light.

“We must have slept in then.” You heard Steve say, sounding more awake with every word he said. “I guess we had a long night, huh?”

 _Understatement of the year…or century_ , You mused.

As Steve finally made his way out of the covers of the bed and up into the world, you noticed that he—once again—grew tense and guarded. You could see him slowly begin to really process the situation, and the bliss he had gotten from sleep was all but forgotten. 

It was a shame, really. You much prefer the company of the Steve that hides under the covers and groans at the morning sun opposed to the Captain America who can’t seem to loosen up.

You-- on the other hand-- tried to crack a smile at any time, you were a firm believer that any situation can be made easier by a positive, or sometimes humorous, attitude. 

It was some sort of strange irony that you and Steve were the two who had ended up in the position you were in. You were like fire and ice together (all puns intended), like day and night.

A soft knock came to the bedroom door, followed by a thump on the ground like someone had set down something heavy. With one final glance at Steve, you walked over to the door and opened it, revealing a stack of books by your feet with a note on them.

You smiled when you saw Charles' handwriting on it... even in fifty years it doesn’t change.

“ _I’m out training the recruits today, so I left the remainder of the books I was unable to skim through last night at your door. Feel free to read through them, perhaps the answer to your problems can be found there. I hope you find something useful._ ” You read, tucking the books between your side and your arm and shutting the door behind you as you made your way back into the room. “ _Sincerely, Charles_.”

Charles-- both his younger and older self-- was one of the most selfless people you knew. Despite everything going on, despite a seemingly inevitable nuclear war looming over his head, he still found time to aid you in your time of need. That was just so very... well, so very _Charles_.

You smiled to yourself and tossed the books onto the bed, flipping through the covers and reading each of the titles. There was everything from “ _The Roots of Mutations_ ” to “ _The Theory of the Space Time Continuum_ ”-- Charles really had quite a diverse collection of books to offer.

You began to split the novels up so that there were two stacks; yours and Steve’s. You of course slipped Steve the larger, boring looking books-- though he didn’t notice. In fact, he wasn’t even looking in your direction. He was standing in front of the window, watching as a kid named Sean flew through the air using some sort of suit that Hank had created. 

“This…this is a strange place.” He said with furrowed brows.

You snorted and shoved his stack of books to his chest, drawing his attention from the window and to you. “It only gets stranger. Trust me, this right here is nothing compared to what it turns in to.”

Steve nodded, and a ghost of a smile just barley beginning to twist at the ends of his lips. He reached up and took the stack from you, his thumb brushing past your fingers. You expected the interaction to be nothing but a small moment that only _you_ really took notice to, but Steve’s touch lingered. His blue eyes, which had been eyeing the books, flicked up to yours. Still guarded, yes, but noticeably softer.

You cheeks burned bright red and you were the first to pull your hands away, quickly turning around and gathering the other scattered novels in your arms. Steve didn’t move for a moment as he watched you, but then sighed and looked back at the books.

“ _The Mutated Gene_?” You heard Steve question, flicking through the first book in the stack. “How is this going to help us?”

Still not looking at him, you pulled the covers of the bed up and made it look at least semi-made. “In order to leave, we need to understand the mutation that brought us here. Or, more importantly, what a mutation even is.”

You knew that Steve wasn’t as educated on the sciences of mutations and mutants, whereas you were actually well read on them. When you had been living in the older Charles Xavier’s school, he had an entire class devoted to learning where students got their mutations from. 

Steve had stretched out onto the bed, leafing through the books quickly and trying to soak in as much information about mutants as he could. You, seeing as you were relatively familiar with mutants, focused more on the space and time books. There were so many theories, so many different directions in which all the information led, that it was downright impossible for you to understand it all. And, as stated, most of them were simply theories-- so even if you did understand what they were saying it would be of little use to you.

“So, you’re…this is what happened to you?” You heard Steve ask from the bed.

You stuck your finger in the book and closed the cover, turning around from where you were sitting on the floor and facing him. He was laying on his side while being propped up on his elbow, a book opened up right in front of him. Your face was just a little lower than his, causing you to have to look up to meet his questioning gaze.

“Your X-gene created chemicals which caused your other genes to develop warped, giving you your abilities.” Steve said, flipping through the book and rehashing the section about the origins of mutations. “So, you were born like that?”

“Just like how you were born with blue eyes.” You responded. “Except, in addition to my eye color, I could also,-- you know–- _burn things_.”

“So you were creating fire even when you were a baby?”

You shook your head, thinking back to you first time learning about your mutation. “No, a mutant’s abilities can surface years into ones life, not necessarily at birth. It’s different for everyone. Mine…they came when I was nine.”

Steve seemed completely intrigued now. “What happened?”

Your stomach dropped a little, the memories of a much darker time in your life coming up to the surface. “I burned my house down. It was an accident, of course, but my parents…they sent me off on my own. Charles found me and brought me in to the school.”

Steve looked immediately guilty for asking, his gaze lowering and his shoulders slumping down. “I’m sorry.”

 _I’m sorry_ , such a normal thing to say. Though, most of the people who say it don’t really mean “ _sorry about what happened_ ”, but rather “ _sorry that I asked_ ”. But Steve’s tone was completely genuine. 

“It’s okay…I don’t really talk about it all that much.” You assured him. “I should talk about it more, though. Talking about that stuff with other people makes it easier, a lot more than bottling it up.”

He let out an airy, short laugh. “That’s some pretty wise words from a girl who insists on making fire puns in the most inappropriate times.”

“Did you just… _laugh_?” You said in mock awe, your eyes growing wide at him.

“I’m not some sort of robot, Y/N. I _do_ laugh.” He informed you, that ghost of a smile he had before growing larger.

For some reason it felt _so good_ to see him this way. And it felt even better that you were causing it.

You smiled widely, then bit your bottom lip in an attempt to distract you from the fuzzy emotion that seemed to be running chaotically throughout your chest. It was almost like you lived for his smiles.

His eyes were no longer watching yours. No-- rather they had wandered down to where you bit your lip. His eyes weren’t guarded anymore, in fact they looked completely full of emotion. So much so, that you couldn’t read them-- there was too much running around behind his irises that you couldn't pin down any one thought.

You hadn’t realized this before, but your two faces were close. And, slowly getting closer and closer.

Finally, after what felt like years of heavy silence and intimate glances, Steve’s lips collided with yours.

You had never thought about him that way, so this entire thing took you by complete surprise. Not to say that you didn’t acknowledge that he was handsome, because he most definitely _was_ , but he was always so business-like around you that the thought of trying to get with him hadn’t even crossed your mind. _Sure_ , when you had initially reached out to SHIELD you were giddy at the thought of being on the team with Captain America and everyone else (they were all damn attractive, who wouldn’t be?) but a relationship with Steve Rogers seemed to be out of the question.

Though, all of that seemed to fly out the window as Steve worked his mouth against yours. He leaned so far off the edge of the bed that he nearly fell into your lap, the only thing keeping him up was the hand that he had wound in your hair.

His kiss was a fine blend of rough and soft, quick and slow, and everything else. It was like he wasn’t sure exactly how to go about it, so he just gave into his natural instinct and felt it out as he went.

After a long thirty seconds of kissing, he pulled back just enough so that he would look you in the eyes.

“That… that was a mistake.”

Your chest felt like it had caved in, your mind froze, and your face went cold.

What stung the most wasn’t the actual rejection itself, actually. You hadn’t explored the thought of having a relationship with him, so his not wanting to get involved with you didn’t hurt nearly as much as the fact that he was _so quick_ to push you away. You hadn’t even gotten _a chance_ to catch your breath before those horrid words tumbled from his swollen lips.

With how fast he had said it, you couldn’t help but think that he was thinking those exact words the entire duration of the kiss.

_I’m just not good enough for him, am I?_

You stood up, allowing for the books to tumble to the ground. Your jaw was set tightly and your fists were curled into balls at your side, smoke coming from them. A fire, one that you had never felt before, burned and crackled inside of you. You hadn’t felt this much pain and rejection since you had been kicked out of your family home. And, in a way, this hurt more.

He was supposed to be someone you trusted your life with, and he can’t even kiss you without getting disgusted. Normally, you would immediately jump to conclusion that he was just prejudice against mutants, as so many people are, but you knew that wasn’t true. Not with Steve. The real issue he had rested in _you_ , not in your X-gene.

With out a word, you left the room and headed out of the mansion.

You were about to do something, really, _really_ dumb.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own any rights to Marvel

~*~ Present~*~

~Bucky~

Bucky was beginning to worry about many things; for one, his friends. 

Steve and Y/N were-- if their theory was correct-- lost in time. If they were in fact transported to the 1960s, they would have an incredibly difficult time working their way through, seeing as one of them wasn’t even born yet and the other was stuck in a mound of ice during that decade. They had no context, no way of knowing what the era was like and what dangers rested there.

Another one of his concerns actually resided in himself. Bucky had come a long ways from his time being the Winter Soldier. Steve was always by his side and making him feel again, never once leaving him in the dark by himself. But _now_ , now that Steve and Y/N were gone, there was nothing tethering him to the ground. He could feel himself slowly begin to drift away with nothing to pull him back, each one of his emotions shutting down and leaving him hollow.

 _God_ , he didn’t want to go back to that. 

The state of mind he held when he was the assassin was a toxic blend of obedience and feeling absolutely nothing at all. He had been taught for over fifty years as the Winter Soldier that he was not to feel anything, to fear emotion.

He was beginning to fear it again.

_No, I can’t go back there. So dark, I’ll loose myself…._

Bucky shook his head furiously, clutching his hands tightly over the sides of his head and burrowing his shaking fingers into his brown hair.

Keep it together. He shouted– _cried_ – to himself. Think of Steve, think of Steve…

But, instead of calming him down, the thought of Steve only brought about bad memories. He thought of Steve’s face when they fought-- back when Bucky was still in Hydra’s hands-- and the time when Bucky fell from the train. 

With his heart hammering in his chest and his sanity splitting down the seams, he decided to take a new approach to calming him down.

Think of Y/N. Think of her smile, her laugh, anything. 

There was no bad memories that came to mind when he thought of her. She had only seen him when he was recovering from being the Winter Soldier, he had never gotten a chance to hurt her like he had Steve.

Slowly, his nerves began to settle. The parts of his sanity which seemed to have scattered themselves about the floor slowly inched their way back up his body and to his mind again, allowing for him to form logical thoughts once more.

Y/N’s silly laugh echoed through his throbbing head, something that he held on to for dear life. Pure, sane, _beautiful and full of life_ \-- he needed it like a man needed water in a desert.

“Bucky?” He heard someone call from the other side of his bedroom door. “You okay in there?”

Bucky stumbled from his bed and nearly fell over, he body not quite working well with his mind. His voice came out raspy and raw. “I-I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Through all the chaotic thoughts running around in his mind, he was able to recognize the voice as Sam’s. “You were lookin’ pretty out of whack before, we’re all worried about you.”

Of course they would have picked up on his distress, anyone with eyes could see that he was loosing it. But, they had no idea just how far the cracks in his mind stretched, how deep they ran.

Bucky was fighting a war against the Winter Soldier, and he was _losing_.

“I said _I’m fine_.” Bucky hissed at the door, immediately regretting his tone. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair and leaned his forehead to the cool surface of the wooden door. It felt good against his burning skin. “I…I just need to be alone for a while, you know? I’m just thinkin’ about things, that’s all.”

He heard Sam blow out a large breath. “Alright, just…just don’t upset yourself. Fury’s here, we briefed him on what happened.”

Bucky’s eyes lifted to the door, almost like he was actually looking at Sam. “Do you need me out there?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He reassured him. “You just take a nice long nap or something, everything is under control.”

_Nothing is under control._

“Okay.” Bucky weakly replied, not liking the idea of sitting back and doing nothing but also really wanting to go back to bed. 

Bucky dragged his feet over to the mattress and fell on top of it, his feet dangling over the edge. He didn’t bother to get under the sheets-- it cost him too much energy. As his eyes began to close and the world began to fade to black, he heard Sam mutter something, “We’ll get ‘em back Buck, don’t you worry.”

Bucky’s dream was nothing more than a repeated cycle of falling from that train, watching his very best friend scream out to him as he descended to Hell.

_Nothing is under control._

~*~ 1962 ~*~

~Reader~

You had no idea of where you were going, you just followed the road away from Xavier’s school. You weren’t planning on running away, but you really just needed to clear you head. Get away from _him_.

You had made your way through countless battles, bounced around from one place to another your entire life, _traveled through time_ — yet one single kiss has broken you.

Never have you felt so low, so rejected, and most of all: so _reckless_.

You wanted to burn something, really, _really bad_. It was hard keeping your flames under your skin as you walked along the road, they wanted to be out and free. You have this uncontrollable urge to torch everything when you get really emotional, and normally you would just go to Bucky and have a good laugh or bake cookies with Bruce to get your mind off of it. But, seeing as that wasn’t going to happen, you were just going to keep walking.

Unsure of where you were going, you let your feet carry you down the road blindly. It could’ve led straight to the fiery gates of Hell and you wouldn’t care, at least there you would feel welcome.

How was it that the only person from your team that you had with you is the one that had hurt you? How was that fair?

You had always suspected that the universe had it out for you, but _why_? You didn’t choose to be born with a mutation, in fact, you tried to put it to good use and joined a team to help _save the world_. You had never wanted to be a part of some sort of petty love story, that was never the intent. Yet, for some reason, the universe decided that it would send you one trouble after another.

After what felt like hours of walking you stumbled upon a small town. Nothing too large, nothing like New York City, but it was nice. Refreshing. There were about five stop lights in total, ten antique shops, four diners, two little parks... 

_That’s it, focus on anything other than the fire burning under your skin._ You whispered to yourself silently as you watched all the people walking down the street. Your eyes shifted every second, finding something new to watch. You had to distract yourself before you put this entire place up in flames.

This was the kind of place where you would have never expected anything bad to happen.

Oh, how _wrong_ you were.

Within a split second, someone had taken you by the shoulders and tossed you into a small alley space between a pet store and a café.

You were so startled that you nearly fell onto your butt, but you managed to catch yourself onto a dumpster. You naturally looked around to see who the _prick_ was that had the nerve to attack you, but the shadows cast between the two buildings were too dark to see through.

Your attacker lurked in the shadows, hidden by the darkness-- you knew they were there, you felt their eyes on you.

“Show yourself!” You were in absolutely no mood to be messed with. You were almost to the point of having smoke coming from your _ears_. “Now is _not_ the time to be screwing around with me."

The man just snorted. “It’s awfully dark here, don’t you think?”

His accent was Swiss, you recognized. What was a man of that nationality doing in a small town in upstate New York?

“Allow me to shed some light.” You sneered.

With a flick of your wrist, flames jumped from your skin and illuminated the alley with an orange glow. God, it felt _so good_ to finally release the fire, yet also so incredibly dangerous. 

It felt _amazing_.

A small man was revealed by your light, his circular glasses showing the reflection of your flames back at you. With your hands held at your sides threateningly, you narrowed your eyes. “Who are you?

The man didn’t look scared, but rather fascinated. Ignoring your question, he looped his hands behind his back and began to waltz forward, a small smile played out on his lips. 

"We heard word that Captain America was somewhere around here. Have you seen him?”

Your stomach dropped to your feet and your flames wavered, growing discouraged at your sudden drop in rage. 

_No, god no._

The man held up a picture, one of you and Steve on the stolen motorcycle as you flew down the road. _Someone had seen you_.

“How?” Your voice came out as a strained whisper.

“We have eyes everywhere.” The man said, his smirk sliding into a full blown smile. “One of my spies caught a glimpse of a man who appeared to have a striking resemblance to Steve Rogers, and upon further investigation, we found out that it was no resemblance at all-- rather that they were the same person.”

Suddenly, any anger you had held against Steve washed away and left raw protectiveness. He was Captain America, a man who must be protected at all costs. You can’t let this man get to Steve.

“What do you want?” Your voice was shaky, scared. 

“To take down Hyrda’s enemy, of course.”

 _Hydra_. This man was with Hydra. 

And then an even bigger issue arose; Hydra had found you two, and you were both _defenseless_.

The man strolled closer and closer to you, and in response you backed farther and farther away. “We were going to go straight to Mr. Rogers, however, I wanted to see you first. When I saw you leave that large house _by yourself_ , I knew I had to get you.”

“ _G-get_ me?”

That was when you backed right into the chest of a man. Immediately, you spun on your heels, igniting your flames tenfold at the sudden scare. He looked to be just a man in a suit, but you saw the beginnings of a tattoo on his neck— the Hydra emblem.

The man tried to grab you, but you channeled your Avenger training and quickly shot fire at him, the force of the impact alone sent him flying back into a brick wall. 

You tried to remind yourself that this was just Hydra, a battle you have fought countless times before. Still, something felt different. This man, the one with the glasses-- he looked at you like you were some sort of animal in a zoo. You hated every second of it. 

More men-- whom you had no doubt were lurking about and just waiting for the signal-- attacked you with brutal force. You had no teammates to call for backup, nothing to defend yourself except your own powers. You managed to hit a few here and there, but they still got some good blows on you as well. 

_Steve._ He was your only thought. You weren’t sure why, but you couldn’t shake his face from your mind.

One man nailed you in the jaw, sending you soaring back and hitting the blue dumpster in the alley. 

Still, despite the fact that your thoughts were beginning to be blurred from the impact of your head, you shot flames out in every direction that you could. Some may have hit a person, or none-- you couldn’t tell.

You hadn’t even stood back up before a giant explosion shook the ground. Bricks from the sides of the buildings flew everywhere, and a large portion of the wall began to fall down towards you.

You had no time to run, no time to _think_ before it fell.

Your right leg was pinned– _crushed_ – under the pile. Initially, the pain made you cry out a horrid sound, but then it began to go numb. 

You couldn’t move, and you couldn’t feel your leg.

“Zola, I think she’s hurt.” One of the men informed the ringleader, the one with glasses. 

You were fading quickly, meaningless murmurs falling from your lips. Some of pain, but most of them being you scolding yourself.

_I should have done better…for Steve…for Bucky…_

“Nothing we can’t fix.” Zola said, grinning at the chaotic mess that had unfolded. You could tell by his eyes, he loved chaos.

All of their glances moved over to the end of the alley where the bomb had come from, Zola still smiling from ear to ear.

A man-- a ghost-- began to walk over to the scene. His fingers were curled around a gun, waiting to see if you would try anything else. Even if you wanted to, you didn’t have it left in you.

Just as you fell into the darkness, you realized something; you _knew_ that man, but at the same time, you didn’t know him at all. He was a different person.

He was the Winter Soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;-; poor Bucky Bear


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> *I do not have any rights to Marvel

~*~ 1962 ~*~

~Steve~

Steve couldn’t move for a good hour-- maybe longer-- since what had happened with Y/N. _Whatever_ it was.

Both had been equally surprised at the kiss, neither of them really had taken the time to think about what it may mean or to where it may lead.

At first, it was the best sensation that Steve had ever felt. Well, _almost_.

That was what drove him to pull away from her. The _feeling_ , the raw emotion that the contact gave off made him think of what he has shared with Peggy, what he had lost and what he could never hope to get back. 

He had spent so, _so_ long trying to make up for the fact that he had left Peggy’s life just after they had hit it off. He visited her whenever he could in her hospital bed during the last few years of her life, and even though she was still alive today, it wasn’t the same. She never remembered his visits, never recalled the fact that he wasn't still lost in ice-- he watched her pain _every time_ he sees her. Like clockwork.

Steve had this fear built up inside of him— between Bucky and Peggy, his track record for ‘being there when his loved-ones needed him’ was less than fantastic. He couldn’t, he just _couldn’t_ go down that road again. Not with Y/N.

The relationship, or whatever it really was, was just starting out. He had a chance to push her away, and so he did.

Y/N’s face was a toxic mixture of anger, pain, and recklessness. Steve only sat by and watched as she jumped up from where she was on the floor and stormed out of the room to god-knows-where.

 _Bucky would have hit me in the head right about now._ Steve groaned as he rubbed his temples. 

Steve messed up, he didn't need anyone to tell him that. He regretted his actions completely.

The only issue was: he couldn’t tell whether he regretted the actual kiss, or the fact that he hurt her.

Steve groaned to himself and slowly got to his feet, nearly loosing his footing and falling over the books that Y/N had dumped onto the ground as she ran away. He made a mental note to himself to remember to pick them up later so that when Y/N _did_ return it wasn’t to a messy room.

Steve gingerly made his way outside where Charles was running laps with Hank, and Hank was passing him each time (nothing that Steve couldn’t beat of course, but still impressive).

Charles cast his gaze over to where the Avenger stood, and immediately he slowed. He waved on Hank ahead, and in deep shallow breaths shouted, “You can go inside and take a break, mate-- you’ve earned it! I’ve got to talk to someone!”

Wiping the sweat beading down his forehead with his grey sweater sleeve, Charles made his way over to Steve and rested his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “What…what’s wrong?”

Steve looked at him strangely, normally people are not able to read Steve’s emotions that easily. “What makes you think that anything is wrong?”

“Your vibe.” Charles explained, standing upright. “I could feel emotions radiating off of you all the way from the track. Did you get into a fight with Y/N?”

 

Steve cringed, not liking just how bluntly Charles had put it. Calling it ‘a fight’ made it sound… _simple_. “Was that in my, er, _vibe_ too?”

“No, no,” Charles laughed, slapping a shoulder onto the much larger Avenger’s. “I saw Y/N run out of the house an hour or so ago.”

 

“Oh.” Steve frowned. “What did she look like?”

 

“Well, she had Y/H/C hair, Y/E/C eyes–”

 

“You know what I meant.” Steve sighed out. God, this guy was beginning to sound like Tony, plus an accent. The thought of being stuck in time with another version of Tony made Steve’s skin crawl. 

 

“I’m just messing with you.” Charles chuckled. “Y/N looked angry, no doubt. Her face was red, and no matter how many times I called to her, she wouldn’t answer. I went inside her head and saw that she was tuning everyone out, she was– to put it mildly– _pissed_.”

 _Bucky wouldn’t just punch me, he’d flat out kill me._ Steve let his eyes flutter shut and tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach. Bucky, though still obviously Steve’s best friend, had no problem calling out Steve when he has done something wrong-- much like _right now_.

Steve could imagine it now— Bucky would be standing in front of him, his hands on his hips, one of his eyebrows cocked up. He’d point in the direction Y/N went, saying something along the lines of _’Go and fix this mess, punk’_.

God, he missed Bucky.

“I’m…I’m sorry to interrupt.” Steve heard someone’s timid voice behind him. Hank stood with his hands looped together in front of him, his eyes cast down to the ground. Steve could tell that he intimidated the poor kid. “But, I’ve got some bad news.”

All joking fading from his tone, Charles faced Hank with a stone hard expression. “What is it?”

“Well, I was getting a glass of water and listening to the radio,” Hank began. “There’s been a huge explosion downtown. The authorities are asking the public to be on the lookout for any injured people, apparently there was blood but no bodies to be found.”

Steve knew in the pit of his stomach that Y/N had something to do with it. Call it instinct, but there was nothing that could convince him otherwise. 

If there was an explosion, Y/N was involved.

~Reader~

You were cold, _so cold_.

The sleepy, numb blackness around you faded away, and slowly you were able to open your eyes. You wanted to see the sky, you wanted to see the sun, you wanted to see _Steve_ , but you were met with… something out of a nightmare.

You were stretched out on a torn-up mattress in the corner, and you couldn’t even move.

The room was rather large with cracked, white tiles on the floor and bars cutting you off from the rest of the building. The room flickered with a green-yellow light, and almost immediately you wished that you could let the darkness pull you back in. This wasn’t where you wanted to be.

Your entire body was numb to the point in which you couldn’t move much of anything, just your neck to see around. As the world came into focus and splotchy shapes turned into people, you noticed some eerily familiar faces. Faces that you wished you would have to never see again.

“Ah, she is awake!” Zola shouted in joy, making you jump a little at his volume. “You, my dear, have been sleeping for quite some time. Hours and hours…I was wondering if you were _ever_ going to wake up–”

“ _Bucky_.” You cut him off, voicing the one thing that was the most important to you at that moment. His face, his name, his goddamn voice was all that you could think about.

“There is no Bucky here.” Zola replied, his grin fading quickly.

“ _Bucky_.” You repeated, this time louder. Your voice was hoarse from not being used in a while, but you still insisted. “Where…where is Bucky?”

Zola stood from the chair he had been sitting on beside your bed, shuffling over for you to look past him. You lulled your head to fully glance in that direction, a mixture of happiness and desperation lacing their way into your tone as you saw the man standing in the corner. “Bucky!”

Your eyes grew hot with tears, making your already splotchy vision even harder to see as the fat droplets ran down your face. God, it was _him_. He looked different— _so different_ — but he was still there.

Somehow, you conjured up enough strength to reach in his direction and stretch your fingers out as far as they could go to him, making a grabby motion. You needed him in your arms, you needed him to be the one familiar face here that told you that everything was going to be okay.

Bucky glanced up at Zola with questioning and slightly pained eyes, almost as if he was silently asking whether he should comply to your demand. Zola _tsked_ at you, wagging his finger back and forth and pushing your hand away so that it wasn’t pointing anymore.

“You’ll be able to be with him soon.” Zola mused, drumming his fingers along the edge of the bed. “Don’t you worry—”

“ _Bucky!_ ” You were downright desperate, you needed to hear Bucky say something. “Please, please, Bucky—”

“That is enough!” Any ounce of Zola’s playful mood had been drained, and in the green light you could see his face tinting red. “You will not call him that again, do you understand?”

You didn’t listen, you couldn’t listen any more. Pushing your hand up the best you could, you conjured up a fire in the palm of your hand. Under any normal circumstances, the amount of fire you were able to produce currently was downright laughable, but still enough to get Zola on edge.

“Get her up, now!” Zola barked out, backing up so that other soldier could come forward. Just briefly, you saw him gesture to Bucky. “Go, get her to the chair. We can’t wait any longer.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, then jumped to his feet and marched over to the bed-- a soldier following orders. The dead, emotionless look on his face scared you, making you squirm in his arms as he lifted you off of the mattress. Your leg, the right one, felt different than before, heavier.

Instinctively, you looked down. 

_No._

Your mind sent silent as you saw your leg begging lifted into Bucky’s metal arm, metal against metal. 

_No._

Your leg was no longer your leg, it was shiny, silver, and most of all— _cold._

“My leg,” You choked out, you couldn’t tell if you were whispering or if you were screaming. “My _leg!_ ”

You lost complete control of your body, kicking and throwing punches in directions that you knew would lead no where. Before Bucky could finish the short journey across the room, you managed to madly wiggle your way out of his grip and on to the floor. You were still too numb to fully move the bottom portion of your body, so you used your hands to crawl to the nearest corner you could find. You heard the toes of the prostatic leg drag across the tiles, making a deafening screech.

You were yelling words and phrases that made no sense, you sanity was gone.

“My leg, my leg, my leg….” You bashed your fist to the tile, cracking it further. “My leg!”

This time, Bucky was faster. He tossed you violently over his shoulder and practically ran to the other side of the room, throwing you into a chair and strapping you in before you had the chance to get away from him.

Zola strolled slowly behind Bucky as his metal fingers worked the tight clasps of your restraints.

You were no longer screaming, you physically couldn’t with the state your throat was in. So, in stead you just breathed out a small, nearly silent name: “ _Bucky._ ”

At your tone, Bucky’s head snapped up at you, only to have Zola’s hand tangle in his long brown hair and forcibly push his face down so he went back to focusing on the buckle.

“I said no more calling him that.” Zola’s eyes were dark. “You will listen to me soon enough, yes?”

“What…what did you do to my leg?” You sounded pathetic, weak. It made Zola smile.

“It was crushed in our little fight from before, beyond saving. So, I gave you a new one.” Zola said. “It is some of my best work, you know. The design makes it incredibly lightweight and extremely flexible. You should be thanking me.”

Your head bounced back from side to side numbly. “Not thanking… _killing_ …”

He snickered, then gestured for one of the men to come over with some sort of mouth guard. You were so broken, so tired that you didn’t fight them as they slid the guard between your lips and over your teeth.

“You are already so powerful, my dear.” Zola’s grin was sadistic, it was the essence of evil. “And I’m going to make you _even better_.”

A few buttons out of your vision were pressed, and suddenly a machine around you began to whirl to life. Plates of metal covered half of your face, making it so you could only see a sliver of Bucky.

He clenched his jaw and looked away once you began to scream.

~*~ Present ~*~

~Bucky~

The lights were too bright, they were talking too loud-- _everything_ that was outside of Bucky’s room irritated him beyond belief.

Sam had offered to walk him back to his chamber and brief him on what the meeting was about later, but Bucky simply shook his head. Bucky didn’t want to miss a moment of anything right now, any developments on Y/N and Steve that they got he wanted to hear right away.

Still, there was the all-consuming hollow feeling that had been clawing at him since his two best friends left, and it was growing quickly. 

There were times where one of the teammates would catch him staring blankly at a wall, nothing but a dead glint in his eyes and his chapped lips parted just enough to let out shallow breathes. It had gotten to the point where he wouldn’t eat, get dressed, or even go to the bathroom unless someone reminded him to. 

He was losing a grip of _Bucky_ , and something that he feared was beginning to take place…

“…I mean, I would guess they would head to SHIELD.” Bruce said, looking over a file that he had read a million times before already. “It would be smart of them–”

“No, actually, that would be one of the _worst_ things they could do.” Natasha sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. No one has gotten much sleep lately. “Think about it: Steve is still 'missing’ to SHIELD in 1962, it’s too risky.”

“Then where would they have gone?”

Bucky’s head bobbed up, his eyes had bags under them. “That school, the one that Y/N told me about.”

Everyone looked over at the Bucky in shock, this was the first thing he had said to anyone all night.

“'Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters’, or something like that. She said that she used to live there.” Bucky mumbled, his words sounding like slush.

“I’ll make a few calls.” Fury announced, jumping up from his seat and already heading to the door. “I’ll see if I can arrange a meeting with the people who run the place.”

Tony snorted from next to Bucky, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. “This is useless. They probably don’t even _want_ to come back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they already bought some sort of little house together, maybe popping out a few kids or something. I’m sure they have already given up this pointless attempt at getting back–”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, his metal hand— almost as if it had a mind of its own- cutting through the air and wrapping its fingers around Tony’s throat.

The sounds of clicking guns and tense breathes filled the heavy air, almost like music to his ears.

“You put Stark down, _now_.” Fury’s voice rang sternly through the air, and he could see Fury pointing the barrel of the gun at him.

He didn’t release Tony from his grip, his fingers only tightened.

Sam held out peaceful hands to him, carefully inching his way closer. “Bucky, stop.”

_Who the hell is Bucky?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for the record, I don't hate Tony. I don't think he is always an asshole, but I *do* think he would be the kind of 'glass half empty' guy, especially in a situation like this. He's just thinking out loud, saying that perhaps the Reader and Steve have given up what he sees as a hopeless attempt to get back to present day.  
> Also, it shows how Tony (as well as the rest of the team) are completely ignorant to what kind of hell they are facing in the past.  
> Last side note: The Reader and Bucky, interesting parallels going on. It's *not* that the Reader has somehow done something in the past to turn him the way he is in the future, it's symbolic. As the Reader loses herself, as does Bucky. When she is fully taken over, as is he.   
> THANKS FOR READING!


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I messed up, I actually uploaded chapter 7 as chapter 6. My bad. Here is the ACTUAL chapter 6- enjoy!  
> *I do not own any rights to Marvel

~*~ Present ~*~

~Bucky~

Bucky sat on his bed with his arms wrapped around his legs and his chin tucked on top of his knees, staring at the wall blankly. He had ruined just about everything in the room; torn the mattress to shreds, tossed over furniture, and ripped all of his clothes into mere threads on the floor. Only one thing remained in perfect condition: a book.

Not a normal book, but rather Steve’s old sketch book. Steve had given to Bucky the first Christmas that they had spent together since he had been the Winter Soldier, when he was recovering. Bucky remembered Steve always keeping that old book with him wherever they went back in the 40s, it was something that meant a lot to him.

Bucky initially had picked it up to toss it across the room like he had done for all his other novels, yet something about the feel of its yellowing, crisp pages between his metal fingers made him think twice.

His heart was so, so _cold_ , yet somehow that little old book made him feel a flicker of warmth. But, just a flicker.

The sketchbook was sitting directly in the middle of the dark room, chaos completely scattered around it on the floor. Bucky watched it from the remains of his bed, his entire frame shaking just at the sight of his best friend’s drawing book. His pride and joy.

Bucky wanted to leave, being trapped in his room meant that he was trapped in his memories. Everything he owned, everything that brought an old thought to his mind—it all resided here. 

He had tried to punch his way through the walls, yet Tony Stark had put an emergency lock down on the room. There was a thick layer of metal that had shot down between Bucky’s side of the wall and the hallway side, effectively locking him in there. An animal in a cage.

Once the team had managed to tackle Bucky and prevent him from killing Stark, they had immediately taken him against his will to his room, and on the way there they already had FRIDAY waiting for the order for the lockdown.

_Would Steve had allowed this? Would Y/N?_

Bucky sat with parted lips as he watched the wall with blank eyes. He was silent, but his thoughts were chaotic.

_When are they coming back to me?_

Flashes of Hyrda swamped his mind; when he fell from the train and they found him, dragged him through the snow, put the metal arm on him, and froze him over and over again…

_They aren’t coming back, are they?_

Steve was such a loyal friend, someone who stuck by his side when no one else would. And Y/N…she was so pure. She had an awful sense of humor and a smile that could melt the frown off of anyone. There was nothing that could ever make her a bad person. They were so good to him, they kept him strong…

I didn’t deserve them, so they were taken away from me.

“Bucky.”

The name rang off of the overhead speakers. It was Sam’s voice; calm, gentle. He was testing the waters to see if it was safe.

“Bucky, can you… can you say something? Show me that you’re listening to me, that you’re with me?”

He wasn’t with him, no. He was so, so far gone. Bucky was shattered and broken, Bucky was gone. 

“Bucky, we have some people here that want to help you, okay?” Sam’s voice wavered just a fraction, as if he wasn’t completely sure about this whole situation himself. “We’re sending the in. Do not— _do not_ attack them. Please just…just try to be yourself. _Please_.”

The metal door-- which had replaced the wooden one that Bucky had kicked down before-- slid open to reveal Fury, Natasha, Sam, a man in a wheelchair and what appeared to be a friend of his.

The man-- the one who wasn’t in the wheelchair-- crossed his hands over his large chest and cocked up and eyebrow. “Well, you weren’t kidding. This guy’s a fucking _wreck_.”

“Logan, language please.” The man in a wheelchair sighed. 

Fury had his hand discreetly positioned over the gun in his belt, something that Bucky didn’t miss for a second but didn’t care too much to think about. Bucky had moved passed his violent streak and had moved on to complete and utter numbness. 

He felt like he was floating, yet he also felt as heavy as led.

“I know we called you in for Y/N and Steve, but thank you for agreeing to see Bucky here.” Sam began, his eyes flicking uncomfortably over to the wrecked soul. “I know that you said you could read mind and stuff, and man, we have _no idea_ what’s running through his.”

“No thanks are needed, friend.” Wheelchair man said, folding his fingers into his lap. “I am always more than willing to help out someone who’s lost.”

_Lost…_

“I’m….” Bucky licked his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to form the words with his mouth. The entire team paused to see what he had to say with wide eyes. “not….lost…”

Bucky couldn’t remember some simple English words, it was like they had been wiped from his memory. It felt like he hadn’t spoken in over fifty years.

“I’m….just…” And that was where he stopped, he didn’t know what to say next. His brain was deflated, his insides hurt, and his eyes were too dry to release the tears he so desperately needed to let go of.

“You’re just what?” He didn’t know who had said it, but it didn’t matter. The concern was there, it gnawed at him. He didn’t want their concern or there pity.

He just wanted _love_ , love in it’s purest form. The kind that came whenever Steve would draw a picture of Bucky, or whenever Y/N would give him a hug when he felt down.

But, he wasn’t getting that any time soon it looked like. Or ever again.

“M'not… _Bucky_ …” He spat the name out. “No…no one….can call…me that 'cept… Steve n’ Y/N…”

Bucky, despite his utter lack of social ability, caught the heartbreak in his teammates faces. And, under different circumstances, he would agree that it was sad. 

“They’re the…only ones who can…call me that.” Bucky was talking faster now, though his words were slurred and hard to understand. He was drunk on insanity. “And…. they’re not comin’ back…so I guess… I guess I’ll never be Bucky again…”

The man–Logan, as they had put it– walked slowly toward him. He held his hands up peacefully as the rest of the team nearly tried to drag him back, but his eyes never left Bucky’s. 

“Listen, bub.” He said. “Y/N… I knew her, alright? I helped her control her abilities, I know how she works and what she thinks. I also happen to know that she would absolutely hate to see you like this. You were her friend, right? She loves her friends just as much she loves all those shitty jokes she always makes. Don’t sink just yet, when she gets back she’s not going to want to see you like this.”

“All…her jokes…” Bucky, somewhere through the haze of pain and uncertainty, found it in him to twist his lips up just a little. Not a smile quite yet, but defiantly the makings of one. “Always…joking around, makin' Steve mad…”

“Logan, keep talking.” Wheelchair man whispered, though Bucky could hear, but didn’t care. He was to wrapped up in the memory of Y/N laugh to question anyone.

“Charles?” Logan cocked an eyebrow, only to have Charles wave at him to continue from his chair.

“Okay, well…” Logan cleared his throat. “She was a spitfire, that’s for sure. She was so determined to get things right and set herself on a good path, which is why she joined SHIELD I suppose. Her smile, it always made everyone else grin along with her. She was the warmest person to be around.”

Bucky’s frame loosened enough for his shoulders to slump and his knees to inch out just a little from under his shaking chin. There were so many times that Y/N would come into his room uninvited (though he would have never told her otherwise), a bowl full of popcorn she had made and a book in her hand. She just knew when Bucky was stressing, and she never failed to keep in company. She saw things that even _Steve_ didn’t.

Tears, hot ones, fell from the corner of his red eyes and down to his chin, dripping into his lap and soaking into his clothes.

He wanted that again; the way he was held, the laughing, the reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

“I miss them.” Bucky’s hands flew up to cover his face, and he was weeping. He was going to drown in his tears. “I miss them and I want them back.”

Charles wheeled over next to Bucky, placing a hand on his back which shook violently from his loud sobs. “We’ll get them back. That’s why Logan and I are here.”

Bucky couldn’t stop crying. He didn’t _want_ to stop crying.

He was finally beginning to feel like Bucky again.

~*~ 1962 ~*~

~Steve~

Charles ran his fingers through his brown hair and blew out a long sigh as he assessed the damage. Bricks were thrown everywhere, burn marks dotted the area, and there was no mistake in it– there was blood.

Steve shook his head and tried to calm his nerves, but he _knew_. There was nothing that could convince him that this had nothing to do with Y/N.

Charles and Steve had taken a car down to the small town of the explosion, and after Charles 'talked’ with the policemen on site, he was able to get Steve through to get a closer look at what had happened.

Steve sorted through some of the bricks, focusing more on where the explosion had gone off. Steve picked through the ruble, only to find something that caught his eye and made his stomach drop.

A gun. Not a large one, a smaller one which could have been easily hidden in someone’s belt. One that had the Hyrda logo printed on the side.

It all clicked then. If Y/N had managed to escape Hydra, then she would have headed straight back to the mansion. He may not know her like some of the others do, but he most certainly knew her mind set when fighting. She wouldn’t brave a fight on her own, not like this.

The fact that she never came back meant that she had been taken. 

“Y/N.” Steve held the gun with shaking fingers. “Oh, my god, _Y/N_.”

Charles skimmed Steve’s mind quickly, only to have his own eyes widen at the Avenger’s discovery. 

“What would…what would _'Hydra’_ do to her?”

Steve ground his teeth together and screwed his eyes shut, this was his fault.

“They’d either kill her,” Steve swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “Or, they’d make a weapon out of her.”

There was no body to be found around here, so Steve could only assume….

“How do we find her?” 

“We don’t, she’ll find us.” Steve turned on his heels, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall down his face. "And when she does, she’ll be trying to kill us.“


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many of you probably already read this, seeing as I screwed up the updating order. However, I hope it makes more sense now!  
> *I do not own any rights to Marvel

~*~1962~*~

~Reader~

You jolted a little when Zola sent a zap through your metal leg, though you stayed put like you were told.

“Just testing to make sure that all of your nerves are functioning properly in the prosthetic.” Zola explained with a chuckle, closing up the little slots on the side of your metallic foot where he had been working. “But, as expected, the design is flawless. Your reaction time has improved over thirty-eight percent with your new leg. Aren’t you grateful?”

You said nothing, just stared straight ahead at the crumbling, molding wall in front of you. Unless it was orders, you never responded. It wasn’t in your programming.

He slapped your knee and got up to his feet. “Of course you are.”

The Asset had been watching Zola modify your leg for the past few hours, not moving a muscle and barley letting out any air. Once and a while, your eyes would flick over to his and they would hold, only to be torn away when Zola made another painful tweak to the metal.

Emotion was something that had been torn out of you, yet the way he looked at you made you feel a small spark of something in your system. 

“I want you out in the hall in five minutes.” Zola twirled his fingers at the men standing guard, gesturing for them to follow him out of the doorway. “You are going to serve Hydra well today, my pets.”

Silence fell over the room when they all left, and you felt just a little less tense with the buzzing of Zola’s tools being gone.

You walked over to The Asset as he had begun to strap his guns around his torso and slip his small knifes into his belt. His gestures, which were fast and hasty due to the scientist’s orders, abruptly slowed as you dipped your fingers gently in the crook of his neck.

Human touch was something that both you and The Asset had been deprived of nearly completely the entire duration of your time there, the only contact either of you had was when Zola was working on you. 

You knew Zola wouldn’t like it, but he never gave you orders to tell you that you couldn’t touch The Asset. His eyes watched you carefully for a small moment, only to droop down as he leaned into your touch. The pads of your fingers gradually slid back into his waves of long hair, leaving the palm of your hand pressing to the side of his neck.

He felt so _cold_.

His metal hand reached up and gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist, ceasing its shaking.

You hadn’t realized you had been shaking.

You stepped closer to him by just a step as he tugged your hand away from his skin and to his face. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, watching you carefully through his eyelashes. Like a memory, like he remembered times in his past where he would take a dame’s hand and kiss it and look up to see he smiling– except you weren’t smiling. You stood still, emotionless, like a rock.

You hadn’t been at Zola’s long, so you didn’t crave someone’s touch as much as The Asset. He seemed to be practically floating just by your hand against his skin.

Knowing that Zola would want you out of the room as soon as possible, you slid your hand out of his cool metal grip. Wordlessly, you found the little jar of black paint that was kept by The Asset’s muzzle. He watched your every move as you dipped your pointer finger in the black concoction and walked over to him.

He closed his eyes–out of habit–allowing you to place the paint around his eyes. After spending a few moments smearing it around with your thumb, you reached over and grabbed his mask. 

You hated that you had to do this. Still, you slipped it right over his mouth. It felt wrong, silencing someone who is already programmed not to say a word. A part of you, the part that still fought against the programs running in your head, thought of it as an dehumanizing injustice.

And maybe it was, but orders were orders. He had to be dressed to go to battle if he was going to win one.

You weren’t given a face mask, mostly because of the lack of time they had to make one for you, however you were told to put on the same sort of paint, which The Asset helped you with. Your outfit was almost exactly the same as his, however, it was shaped differently to fit your body. The black pants and boots hid your leg, and for just a small moment you found yourself pretending that it wasn’t there.

Zola said that you should be proud to have it, that it made you much more powerful. You tried to remember that your leg was supposed to be your best ally, it made you the weapon that you were.

With that in mind, you were ready to go.

You were going to head off to _war_ , to kill the Captain.

Everything around you: Hydra, The Asset, even the building— they were all so cold. You were not at home among cold things, that was no secret. The irony of the situation, even in your muddled mind, was not lost. You were a flame lit in the hands of the coldest winter.

You were Winter’s Flame.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~Steve~

He still hadn’t picked up the bedroom since Y/N had left. Even when nightfall came and he had to sleep, he just positioned himself around the books on the bed and didn’t get under the covers.

He wanted to leave it exactly the way she had left it. He took comfort in the fact that she was the last one to have made the bed, and she was the last person to have flipped the pages of the still-open books laying on the ground.

It was funny, Steve was always finding new ways to be stuck in the past.

Charles had tried to comfort Steve, but it was clear from the beginning that the only way he was ever going to find peace was when he saw Y/N again. Still, both the Avenger and Charles knew that it probably wasn’t going to be the same Y/N they had known.

Steve didn’t expect anything less. After all, everything he has come to love seems to fall to pieces, why would she be any different?

Steve bit his lip so hard that it bled as he finished putting on the last bit of his Captain America uniform–his shield. He had saved Y/N with it just before they had been sent in to the past, just before this mess had happened. He used to carry it with pride, yet now all he felt was shame when he held it.

He failed to protect her. Not only that, but he himself had driven her to where she was now.

A large blast sounded from in the front lawn of the mansion, and Steve’s eyes lightly shut. Finally, she was here.

Steve looked out the guest bedroom window, only to see two people dressed in black standing out like a sore thumb on the bright green lawn.

Steve nearly fell down the stairs of the mansion as he made his way to the ground floor. He passed by a frightened Raven, Alex, Hank, and Sean– all of which had congregated by a front window to watch what was happening. Steve told them to stay inside and keep away from the window as he sprinted out the door, though they didn’t listen to the window bit. 

He paused as he came in between Erik and Charles, both of which were standing defensively in front of the house. 

“Y/N…” The name was too quiet for anyone to hear other than Steve himself, yet he had to say her name. She was there, right in front of him, yet it wasn’t her at all.

She had war paint spread thickly around her eyes and a dark, heavy outfit on that matched the person next to her.

 _Bucky_. 

Steve should have guessed that she would have ended up with Bucky, but he had grown so used to the Bucky he knew in the future that he had nearly forgotten who the Winter Soldier was.

Apart from the makeup, Y/N looked the same, which come to a little relief for Steve. It looks like she was still– at least in the physical sense– who she was before.

Still, that dead look in here eyes made his stomach turn.

He had played this game once before, nearly losing his best friend. He didn’t want to go through it again. Never again.

“I’m your friend, Y/N.” Steve shouted to her. “Please, please– I don’t know what they told you, or what they did to you, but you have to remember who you are.”

She didn’t move, and for a split second Steve questioned whether she was actually alive. Hydra had her wrapped so tightly around their finger, she was nothing but a tool for them to use. A pawn in their chess game.

“You know, if she starts to attack we’ll have no choice but to stop her.” Erik said calmly, his eyes never leaving the pair. “I know she was your friend, but just look at her. She’s gone–”

“No.” Steve hissed out sternly. “I’ve had a friend who went through this once too, and he bounced back. Whatever they use to control them only lasts a sort while before it wears off, she’s still _her_. At least, she will be.”

“I’m trying…” Steve glanced over at Charles, who had his index and middle finger pressed to his temple. “I can’t even read any thoughts. Both of their minds are completely vacant!”

Y/N’s wrists flicked at her sides—such a familiar gesture– creating two balls of fire, and Bucky took a knife out from his belt. He twirled it around his biotic fingers, his colored eyes narrowed at the Avenger. 

It was like he didn’t know them _at all_.

Steve could tell that they were done with waiting, they had their orders that they had to carry out.

And so, Steve was to fight against the two people he loved the most.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own any rights to Marvel

~*~ 1962 ~*~

~Steve~

The world went still. 

Steve had his shield stationed firmly in front of him, Erik stood with his hands held out defensively, and Charles was desperately trying to secure even one thought in either of their minds.

“I can’t stop them.” Charles hissed. “Normally, I can gain access to a person’s mental commands and control their actions, but these two…they already have someone in their heads.”

Bucky’s small knife twirled between each of his metal fingers, twisting over his knuckles in a pace that was almost too fast to follow. Y/N still had flames crackling and twisting around her clenched fists at here side, her head tilted over a bit as her eyes studied Steve.

Her eyes were so disconnected, so _lost_.

Bucky’s cold eyes flicked over to Y/N, as if to silently tell her something, then he shot his hand out and sent the knife soaring through the air and at Steve’s forehead. 

Erik’s hand moved from in front of his body to the side where Steve was, effectively stopping the knife in mid-air and letting it float.

As Bucky bolted over to Steve, Y/N amped up her inferno and sent two lines of fire swirling at Erik and Charles. Erik, already being on high alert due to stopping the knife, grabbed Charles by the wrist and yanked him out of the blaze’s path. 

Steve had to rip his attention away from the feuding mutants and focus on his best friend. This wasn’t the first time that he had to fight him, but that didn’t mean it made it any easier. 

For one, Bucky had been extremely well trained by Hydra. His strength was equal to that of Steve, and his metal arm made up for Steve’s shield. They were so evenly matched that it was just a race to see who could fit in a blow before the other could block.

But, the most damning part of the fight for Steve was that he didn’t _want_ to fight Bucky. All his memories of the past and of those to come in the future hit his mind like a train every time he went to attack him. Bucky’s smile, his laugh, how protective he was— that was all stuff that restrained him from doing what he knew was right.

The two men circled like dogs, Bucky’s knife pointed threateningly at the Avenger and Steve’s shield held up in front of his torso.

Bucky’s long, wavy hair fell in front of his eyes as he leaned forward and jutted the knife in Steve’s direction, not so much to hit, but rather to test the Avenger’s reaction.

“Buck.” Steve breathed out, his lungs feeling restricted by the tension hanging in the air. “Buck, listen to me.”

The Winter Soldier, of course, didn’t even look as though he registered that Steve was talking to him.

A shout sounded from over to the side, drawing both Steve and Bucky’s attention to the source. Steve saw Bucky’s eyes widen as Y/N writhed on the ground beside Erik, her hands reaching down to clutch her… _leg_?

Bucky, seemingly having forgotten about his current fight, booked it over to his co-assassin.

Steve sprinted over to Erik as well, his eyebrows furrowed in concern at her shouting form. Frantically, he hissed, "What the hell is going on, Erik?“

"Metal.” Erik grunted simply, clearly trying to focus his powers. His hands shook violently in Y/N’s direction. “I…I felt metal, _a lot_ of it—her leg.”

Erik was trying to keep her pinned to the ground, though she fought back with such passion that he had no choice but to twist the leg until she was screaming and tears pricked her eyes.

“ _H-help_!" She pleaded, something that Steve had never seen. As an Avenger, she was always so strong willed and independent that she would almost never call for assistance, even when it was clear she needed it.

She was looking in Steve’s direction, and for just a moment he thought that she was asking him, but no sooner was he proven wrong as Bucky jumped out from behind him and sent a punch directly across Erik’s face. 

Erik, being too distracted by Y/N, didn’t have time to pause Bucky’s metal arm before it collided into his jaw. A few more punches were thrown, and by the time Steve managed to rip Buck off of the mutant, Erik was out cold.

Now this was _emotion_. The fire that blazed in Bucky’s eyes was like nothing he had ever seen. Buck’s breathing was labored and he bore his teeth out like some sort of deranged animal. Hard, labored breaths were forced out of his lungs as he grunted out, "Don’t…hurt…her…again.”

Charles was at Erik’s side as soon as he could, holding him to his chest and watching the events unfold. Charles was not a very active fighter, and seeing as his mutation was practically useless, the best he could do was just send his support to Steve.

Steve had to _know_.

His heart pounded in his chest so hard that he thought it would burst through his skin, and his throat was so dry that he couldn’t swallow. Each quick step he took over to Y/N felt heavier and heavier.

_Please, let me be wrong._

Steve dropped to his knees and grabbed Y/N’s squirming leg. It felt hard, way too hard to be flesh.

_No, please no…_

Steve ripped the fabric over her right leg off completely, revealing his worst fear.

Her leg was no longer flesh and skin, but rather shinny metal with a large red star stamped onto the top of her thigh.

“What did they do to you?” Steve’s voice came out as a hushed whisper. “God, _what did they do to you_?”

He didn’t get an answer, though. Rather, Y/N’s hands snapped up to Steve and wrapped her shaking fingers around his throat. Steve dropped his shield at his sides and worked to pry her fingers from his skin, but she only tightened her grip.

Her fingers began to get warm, then _hot_.

“Get up.” She snapped, her voice was restrained and guarded. Yet, he saw a flicker of irritation in her eyes. 

Her nearly-on-fire fingertips prompted him to move his hands away and hold them up peacefully, she had him on the ropes.

Slowly and cautiously, they stood together. He heard her leg click back into place from how it was twisted on the ground, her face twitching a little at the pain but her position still not wavering.

Steve’s eyes flicked down to where his shield was, noting the small distance between it and his feet.

Bucky came up to Y/N and looked her up and down, his biotic fingers skimming over the skin of her neck and over her shoulders quickly as he looked for any source of injury. As the Winter Soldier, Steve had never seen Bucky look so concerned before. When he had fought him in the wake of the entire ‘Project Insight’ situation, he had gotten the impression that Winter Soldier Bucky cared about nothing other than the orders given to him. Clearly, now something is different.

“I thought…I thought they were going to kill you.” Bucky muttered very quietly as he leaned his head on her shoulders, almost looking ashamed at his own emotions getting involved with his mission.

She just shook her head, not letting go of Steve’s throat, and brushed her cheek over the crown of his head to silently assure him that she was still there.

Her fingers had cooled down just a touch at the distracting interaction, giving Steve the perfect opening to fight back. He slammed his foot down on the edge of his shield, causing it to flip up in the air and catch it. As soon as the shield was in his fingertips, he slammed it into the side of Bucky’s face, sending his friend flying to the side and landing brutally on the ground.

Steve gripped Y/N’s shoulder and forced her to stumble back up until her backside was thrown roughly against the house. Her hands had slipped from his throat in surprise, allowing for him to snatch her wrists and pin them above her head with his shield.

“Go ahead, try to burn me. This shield was made to withstand more than a few burn marks.” 

Her eyes narrowed and she went to kick her foot up, but Steve’s quick reflexes (thank the serum for that) gave him enough of an opening for him to crush both of her feet under his. Even her metal foot remained stationed where it was with his weight piled on top of it.

“I don’t want to fight you, Y/N. Can’t you see that?” His face was flushed in emotion, yet her own remained blank. “You have to see that. This is the last thing I want to do. I’ve already lost Sam, Buck, and everyone else when we went through time, I can’t loose you— I don’t want to be alone.

"Don’t you remember?” Steve was desperate now, his voice pleading with her. “We are on the same team! We’ve fought together, we’ve traveled here together, _Christ_ — we’ve even kissed.”

Whether it be something about how his tone shifted, or even just the mention of the kiss, he saw her head tilt just slightly and her brows furrow.

“Yes, _yes,_ —remember the kiss? How it felt?” Steve was rambling, saying the first thing that popped into his head in an attempt to hold her interest. “Remember how I held the side of your head in my hands, how my fingers slid through your hair as I kissed you… _please_ , you have to remember.”

“I don’t remember.” She said quietly, as if she was testing the phrase on her lips. Then, like she was trying to somehow convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him, she shouted, “ _I don’t remember_!”

“ _Stop lying_!” Steve’s tone rose above hers, causing her eyes to widen. “I know you can, but you’re pushing the memory away! You feel it, when I was describing the kiss– _you felt it_!”

Her nose scrunched up and she spit at his shoes, not wanting to look up at his face. 

“This…this is about the time when you would make some sort of stupid joke, like 'don’t get me fired up’, or something like that. Something so stupid yet so cute. God…” Steve shut his eyes tightly and tried–really tried— not to let the tears in his eyes fall down his face. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

She didn’t answer.

“Tell me something, anything about yourself right now.” Steve saw that her eyes had grown distant, like she was in thought. "Tell me what you are thinking, please.“

Her eyes were wide as they looked at the ground, and Steve felt her frame loosening. 

One word— a single, heartbroken syllable tumbled from her chapped lips: ” _Scared_.“

Then, Steve heard a click at the side of his head. The barrel of a gun was pressed to his temple, a heavy-breathing Winter Soldier at its trigger.

Blood dribbled down the side of his head where a deep cut had sliced through the skin in the upper right side of his forehead. That will defiantly leave a scar.

The image of Bucky with the gun snapped Y/N into her cold state of mind, instantly taking advantage of Steve’s distraction and kicking her metal foot out from under his. She pushed her leg between herself and the Avenger, kicking him in the stomach and sending him stumbling back a few steps.

She had enough of Steve getting into her head, she just needed to finish the mission.

She pushed both of her hands together and sent out a large wave of flames at Steve, held nothing back.

Steve hid his head behind the shield and charged forward with everything he had, there was nothing for him to loose.

Her flames didn’t die down, but rather curled up around the edges of his shield. The metal was getting scorching hot, but Steve didn’t back away, he kept on running closer and closer to her.

She was so focused, so set on burning him that her common sense did not set in before it was too late. Steve had begun to run at her while she was still firing at him, only to have her own flames jump off the surface of his shield and hit her.

Y/N screamed—screamed so loud that Steve’s ears hurt. She fell to her knees and clutched the side of her neck and her left shoulder.

Though she had put out the flames in her hands, the ones on her clothes still burned bright.

Bucky and Y/N both tore at the heavy black jacket frantically, but by the time they managed to throw it’s shreds onto the ground the damage had already been done. She was burned all the way from her shoulder up to the side of her neck.

Tears streamed down her face as she shouted, a trembling hand held over her scorched skin.

Bucky looked like he was going to be sick— not because of the actual burn itself, but rather from the fact that she had been _so badly_ hurt.

Steve knew what was coming, so he made a very hard decision: Before any more disaster struck, he hit both of the assassins hard over the head with the surface of his shield, causing them both to fall completely to the ground. 

He let the tears fall down his face freely as he watched both of his friends lay on the grass, out cold.

He knew that in a short while they would both regain their memories, but it still hurt. The two people that he loved the most had nearly killed him.

And Y/N…that burn was nothing to be looked at lightly.

Erik was groaning loudly and sitting up, rubbing his head and wincing in pain. Charles held him steady, though his eyes were on Steve.

 _It will be okay, Steve._ Charles’s voice rang through his mind. _We’ll take care of your friends, the worst is over._

Steve looked up at the sky and frowned, his tears falling at his feet. _Is it over?_

~*~ Present ~*~

~Bucky~

"You doing okay, man?” 

Bucky looked up at Sam from where his face had been buried in his folded arms on the table, just a sliver of his eyes visible. “Alright.”

Sam let out a little chuckle and slapped him on the back. “That’s better than before!”

Bucky even found himself smiling just a little too, it was hard not to with Sam around.

Bucky had started to feel more and more like himself ever since Charles and Logan had come along, it kept him distracted from everything inside of his head.

He heard the sound of wheels rolling behind him, and his head quickly shot up.

“Uh…” Bucky snapped his fingers impatiently, searching his mind for the name. “Wheelchair Man!”

Logan let out a large laugh. “His name is Charles, kid.”

“Sorry, I forgot the name.” Bucky grunted out, clearly annoyed at his own little failure. “I just wanted to see if there were any updates?”

“Nothing since the last time you asked, James.” Charles replied (he insists on only calling Bucky by his real name, much to his annoyance). “I scanned the mutant’s mind and nothing useful came up. We’re trying to come up with a solution, but it will take time.”

“I remember some things, but the memories are old—fifty years old, to be exact.” Charles continued. “As your friends continue their journey through time, I remember more and more of the time I have spent with them. I remember them coming to stay with me, and…well, that’s not important. The point is; I remember in fragments. Memories fade and get muddled throughout time, so it isn’t easy for me to really piece together a full idea of what is going on in the past. I can’t tell you anything very useful at the moment, I am afraid.”

“M'sorry,” Bucky mumbled. “I know I’m being pushy and all, but you’ve gotta understand—”

“Whoa, man, when did that get there?”

Same was suddenly in front of Bucky, jabbing a finger at the upper right of his forehead. Charles rolled in closer and Logan walked behind him, all clearly seeing something that Bucky obviously could not see for himself.

“What? What is it?” Bucky asked, growing a little worried at their faces.

“Have you always had that scar?” Sam questioned.

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “What scar?”

“This one, man.” Sam pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and held it in front of Bucky’s face, using its black screen as a type of mirror. And they were right— there as a huge scar that ran along just from the edge of his eyebrow to his temple. It was curved, long, and deep.

At first, it looked completely new to Bucky, but the longer he stared at it, the more familiar it looked. He began to feel like it had been there for years, and suddenly, it didn’t shock him to look at it anymore.

Bucky breathed out a little laugh, pushing the phone out of his face. “No, that’s always been there.”

Sam tilted his head to the side, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own any rights to Marvel

~*~ 1962 ~*~

Your heavy eyelids lifted, revealing a world of splotched colors. Yellows, blues, greens—everything, it was all swirling like watercolors. The more you blinked, the more the blobs began to solidify into shapes, and then objects.

A annoyingly consistent throb began to beat in your head, causing you to let out a throaty, broken groan from between your chapped lips.

Your head lulled from one side to the other heavily, and you found your sleepy eyes meeting those of Erik. He sat on the windowsill, eyeing you carefully as he absentmindedly floated a coin between each of his fingers.

The more awake you were, the more of the room you took in. You saw that you were on a very familiar bed—the one that you had shared with Steve on the first night you had come to Charles— and just across the other side of the room, there was a completely unconscious Bucky sleeping on the a make-shift bed on the floor. It was what looked to be nothing more than an old mattress covering in layers upon layers of quilts and blankets, whatever scraps happen to be laying around the house.

Then, your gaze landed on the most important thing in the room. A sight that you had, before everything had gone to hell, come to love more than anything else.

Steve was curled up on the floor right next to your bed, his front facing the frame of the bed. His eyes were shut blissfully and his lips were parted as he blew out sleep-filled sighs. It was a sharp contrast to the last time you remember seeing him; a fire in his eyes, a tense posture, his jaw set tightly as he bashed his shield against you.

Now, there was none of that. He was serene, calm. Which was why you loved seeing him like this, it was so _pure_.

Yet, you still spotted things that you hadn’t seen previously when he had been dozed off. There were bags under his hooded eyes, his knuckles were cracked and blooded, and he looked to have some small knife scratch on his cheeks and forehead. Nothing huge, but still something you took note of.

“He’s been laying there for days.” You heard Erik say, though you didn’t look up at him.

“Why…why does he look so tired?” You asked quietly, eyeing the bags under his eyes.

“Well, he’s been getting up every few hours to put new ice cubes in that glass on the table next to you.” Erik explained as he sent his little coin floating over to you. 

Your eyes followed it as it circled around a large glass on the nightstand, the glass had drops of condensation falling down its surface and landing on the wood beneath it. Little, almost non-existent forms of ice bobbed in it, though they were almost completely melted.

“He wanted to make sure that if—excuse me, _when_ you woke up you would be able to have a cold drink.” Erik let out a little snort. “You’ve been out for days, but since the moment you were put in that bed he’s been watching over you like an obsessive nurse.”

Had you not been so incredibly sluggish from sleep, you might have had it in you to blush.

You smiled down at him, your lips curling up slowly. 

“Everyone wanted me to be in here just in case you or long-hair over there wanted to try anything when you woke up,” Erik said, jabbing a thumb in Bucky’s sleeping direction. “But, I think you look alright. I’m going to go take a break for a bit and let you, you know, get _acquainted_ again with the human golden retriever. Just give me a call if you need me?”

You gave him a short nod, though your eyes never left Steve’s sleeping form. Once you heard the door close behind Erik, you carefully reached down and brushed a lock of Steve’s short golden hair out of his face. You gently stroked your knuckles over the side of his face, slowly but surely drawing him from sleep.

His loosened face grew tense as he furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose, making you chuckle quietly to yourself.

“Steve,” You murmured. “Steve, wake up.”

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice, instantly finding you.

“Y/N?” A small smile graced his lips as he sat up to his knees, pulling you into an awkwardly angled hug. His lips pressed against your ear, whispering, “You’re finally awake.”

Though the position was awkward, you still relished the warm embrace. His arms provided a stability that you had been sorely lacking the past few days. It made you feels so _warm_.

“I feel awake.” You said back, equally as hushed. “I haven’t felt this awake in a while.”

Steve pulled away, his hand brushing past the left side of your neck. Your smile instantly shifted into a grimace, a small hiss of pain emitting from your lips.

“Oh, sorry.” Steve said sheepishly, watching the spot carefully. “Sorry.”

“What…” You ran your fingers numbly over the area, on what appeared to be a bandage. “What is it? Why is there a covering?”

The medical tape and cotton layers on top of your skin stretched from your neck all the way down your shoulder.

“You don’t remember?” Steve asked, his eyes suddenly looking incredibly sad. It was almost as if he wanted you to recall, that way he wouldn’t have to explain it and revisit the event. “Not as all?”

The more you felt it, the more of the fragmented memories began to stitch themselves back together. Feelings, places, people—they all floated to the surface of your mind. You were trembling now, your fingers falling from your skin.

“Oh.” You moved your gaze down. “ _Oh_. My…I did this to myself, I burned myself.”

Steve just sat back and watched you, not sure of how to comfort you.

“Oh god, and the burn…” You moaned out, your eyes filling with tears. “My burns aren’t even the end of it, _my leg_ …”

You went to fumble under the sheets and feel the leg for yourself, just to make sure that it was true, but instead Steve grabbed your hand and wound his fingers in yours.

“Don’t.” He whispered. “Please, you’ll only upset yourself.”

“Steve.” You argued, trying to tug your hand out of his but he remained determined.

“Baby, please.” Steve forced your chin up to look at him. “ _Don’t._ ”

“So it’s true, then.” You whispered. “It wasn’t just a nightmare.”

Steve closed his eyes and swallowed. “I don’t know what they did to you, but you’re _safe_ now. Hank set up a security system for ten miles out, Hydra won’t be coming close to this house any time soon.”

That did little to make you happier. Your leg, a _part of you_ was ripped away. You were a _monster_.

So, you cried. You saw no point in hiding it, any emotion felt good to release. As an Asset, you didn’t cry. You got angry, you got downright _violent_ , but you never cried.

“Oh, Y/N,” Steve brushed the tears away. “What can I do? How can I help you?”

“Get me my leg back.” You knew it was a ridiculous request, but it didn’t stop you from saying it. You had it stuck in your head that if you had it back, then things would be okay. Almost like Hydra didn’t even happen.

Steve shook his head and looked around, uncomfortable and upset and feeling useless.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” You sighed. “Can you just hand me that cup of water? My throat feels like I swallowed a knife.”

He wrapped his free hand, the one not tangled in your fingers, around the glass and pushed it against your lips. You parted them and allowed for him to tip the liquid into your mouth, and as you slowly took in the refreshing drink, Steve leaned over and pressed his lips to your forehead. 

You gently tugged at the hem of his shirt with your free hand once you were done, and he pulled away and set the glass back on the table.

“Are you hungry?” He asked. “I can get you whatever you want.”

“Not…not really.” You answered, trying to determine the answer yourself. When you had been under Hydra’s control, they had told you when you were to eat and when you were to not eat. They gave you this bland, tasteless paste that just had enough nutrients to keep you alive and moving. 

“Okay, just tell me when you are.” Steve said. “Do you want to get up and walk around a bit?”

Your gaze moved from Steve to Bucky, who was in deep sleep. “What about the Asset? What if he wakes up when we’re out of the room?”

“The Asset?” Steve questioned, causing you to shake your head. 

“I mean _Bucky_ , I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay.” He assured you, then let it go. “I hit him pretty hard over the head, a number of times more than I did for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is still out for the next few days. He’ll be hurtin’ when he wakes up, but other than that, his serum will take care of the injuries.”

You watched Bucky sleep for just a moment, then began to more your legs to the edge of the bed. You ignored the fact that one was significantly heavier than the other as you eased your feet down to the floor.

“You okay?” Steve questioned with his arms out to steady you. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“It’s just…” You tried to control your breathing as you clutched Steve’s arm. “Where my skin meets my metal leg, it’s still raw. Hydra gave me this painkiller so I didn’t feel it during combat, but now…”

“Hank gave you some of my blood, he said that the serum in it will help you heal faster and more efficiently. Maybe it isn’t working?”

You shook your head, taking the blanket from the end of the bed and wrapping it around your shoulders. “No, its okay. The more I walk the more I’ll get used to it, that’s all.”

Steve looked at you with doubt, but didn’t argue. Together, the two of you headed out of the room.

~*~ Present ~*~

~Bucky~

The team, including Charles and Logan, had been sitting around a conference table in Avenger’s tower for hours, debating as to how they would even begin a rescue mission for Y/N and Steve.

Tony and Logan claimed that with the right amount of “persuasion”, the could make the mutant send them back. But, Charles promptly told them that no amount of torture could get this mutant to do what they wanted, mostly because the mutant just didn’t know _how_.

“Maybe the mutant could learn how to _reverse_ his ability, you know?” Bruce offered. “We could do some tests on him, understand his powers more, and maybe—”

“That could take weeks, _years_ even, Bruce.” Tony argued. “We don’t have the type of equipment ready to even _begin_ to understand his powers, much less _teach_ him how to reverse them.”

“Y/N and Steve might not have years.” Clint interjected from the corner of the room, next to Nat. “Who knows what they’ve encountered there? We shouldn’t just assume that everything is going just fine for them, especially when so much could go _wrong_.”

“Well, we’re all still here, right? We’re all the same people we were when they left.” Nat said calmly, seeing the faces of worry cross her teammates. “So we know that they haven’t screwed up _too bad_.”

“Is there any way that you could make a machine that amplifies his abilities?” Bucky asked Tony and Bruce. “Like, one that makes him–”

“More powerful? I don’t think so.” Tony snorted. “That might just be the dumbest—”

“No, wait.” Logan cut Stark off. “That’s not an awful idea. That mutant won’t be pulling anything with a gun to his head, I promise you. What about Cerebro?”

Now, it was Charles’s turn to give a look of surprise. “Cerebro is made custom for my personal mutation, it nearly killed Jean when she tried to use it, what makes you think that this mutant can take it?”

Now Bucky was interested. His back straightened and his expression was increasingly excited. “What does Cerebro do?”

Charles sighed, clearly seeing that everyone was not going to let the subject go. “Cerebro does just what you had mentioned before; it amplifies my mutant ability. But, if you put anyone else in it, their mind gets completely warped. Their thoughts become too loud and overpowering, and before they know it, they have lost complete control of themselves.”

“What if there was someone _in_ their mind to keep them from… you know, doing whatever you just said?” Bucky questioned. The moment that he saw even a slight possibility of a way to get them back, he was going to see it through.

“That’s not a horrible idea, but who is going to man the machine? I am the only one who know how to work it.”

The shut everyone up. Bucky’s heart sunk in disappointment, he had come so close to having a good solution.

“What if there was another person that can go into people's minds?”

Everyone’s head snapped over to the wall closest to the door, the on where Vision had been standing silently for the past few hours as the team battled it out for answers. He looked mildly uncomfortable with the sudden rush of attention, though he continued his thought.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff are in Sokovia right now, but I’m sure if we asked we could get them to come back.” Vision explained. “Wanda can do it, I assure you. If anyone can, it’s her.”

Vision had always held a certain fascination with Wanda, and it wasn’t a surprise to any of his teammates that she was the first thing that had come to his mind. It would have been sweet, had it not been under such stressful conditions.

Fury already had his phone out, typing up a message to send to the twins telling them to get their asses to Avenger’s Tower ASAP.

Just as things were beginning to simmer down, FRIDAY come on over the room’s speakers.

_“Excuse me, Mr. Stark, but I am afraid there is something quite urgent that is in need of your attention.”_

Stark’s eyebrow lifted and he turned to the speaker, almost as if he was looking at FRIDAY directly. “What is it?”

_“There has been a breach on the ground floor, sir. A young male, and he appears to be setting everything on fire.”_

Tony shot up from his seat, wide eyed. “Son of a _bitch_ , how did he get past the security? The metal doors?”

_“He melted the doors, sir.”_

“Do you have an identity? _Anything_?” 

FRIDAY gave a visual on the screen in the conference room. A young man, as she had said, with golden hair and jeans, a black jacket, and converse was strolling into the building, a blaze of flames in the palm of his hand. The door behind him was melted down completely, and the papers which had been stacked on the desk by the front were lit up in orange.

Logan and Charles looked at each other with all color drained from their faces.

_“He has informed me that his name is Pyro.”_


End file.
